■ 


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FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 

REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 
THE   LIBRARY  OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Glib 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/resurgitcoOOfoxc 


ESURGIT 


A    COLLECTION    OK 


'ilgmns  anti  Songs  of  tfje  Ucsurrrctton. 


EDITED,   WITH'  XQTES, 

By    FRANK    FOXCROFT. 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

Bv  ANDREW   PRESTON    PEABODY,   D.D. 


-*- 


Boston: 
FEE   AND    SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS. 

Xcto  gork; 
CHARLES    T.   DILLINGHAM. 


Copyright,  1879, 
Bv   FRANK    FOXCROFT. 
rights  reserved. 


(Tabic  of  Contents. 


Prefatory  Note 
Index  of  First  Lines 

Index  of  Latin   Hymns. 
Index  of  Authors  . 
Index  oi  Translators   . 
Introduction  by  Andrew  P. 
Hymns  from   i  he  Greek 
Hymns  from   ihf  Latin 
Hymns  from  the  Russian 
Hymns  from  the  Danish 
Hymns  from  the  German 
Hymns  from   ihk  Swedish 
English  Hymns 
American  Hymns 
Bibliography     . 


Peabody 


I). 


D. 


XV 

xvii 

xxi 

xxiii 

I 

2S 
97 
101 

109 

'5  I 

3fl 

347 


gfrefotorg  Note, 


j  HE  present  volume  explains,  and,  it  may 
be  hoped,  justifies  itself.  It  is  the  result 
of  a  more  careful  search  than  has  been 
hitherto  made  in  the  rich  field  of  resurrection- 
poetry.  It  finds  its  purpose  in  a  desire  to  con- 
tribute to  the  observance  of  a  day.  the  hopes  and 
iations  of  which  are  precious  to  all  branches 
of  the  Christian  Church  :  and,  besides  this,  to  } -re- 
sent a  collection  of  verse  sufficiently  varied  and 
suggestive  to  be  welcome  not  only  at  Easter-time. 
but  throughout  the  year.  For  the  Christian  Sabbath 
is  itself  a  weekly  commemoration  of  the  rising  of 
Christ,  and  we  do  not  wisely  if  we  keep  the  Eas 
feast  but  once  a  year. 

The  scope  of  the  volume  might  have  been  greatly 
enlarged  by  including  poems  relating  to  the  ascen- 
sion and  exaltation  of  Christ,  or  to  the  general  res- 
urrection, and  the  joys  of  heaven.  Poems  of  both 
these    classes    are    often  included   among    Easter- 


VI  PREFATORY  NOTE. 

pieces.  But,  if  these  had  been  taken,  the  collec- 
tion would  have  lost  its  distinctive  character.  With 
a  very  few  exceptions,  the  poems  which  it  contains 
relate  directly  to  the  rising  of  Christ,  and  to  the 
Christian  hope  of  resurrection  as  based  thereon. 
Within  these  seemingly  narrow  limits  the  reader 
will  find  a  wide  variety  of  form  and  thought  and 
feeling.  It  will  be  noticed  that  comparatively  few 
of  the  pieces  are  among  those  in  common  use  for 
public  worship.  Xo  part  of  the  editor's  search  has 
been  so  disappointing  as  that  which  led  him  among 
the  hymn-books.  It  is  well  known  that  what  may 
be  called  the  singing  qualities  of  a  hymn  are  often 
in  inverse  ratio  to  the  poetic.  There  are  very 
many  hymns,  which,  when  removed  from  their  set- 
ting, and  analyzed  as  poems,  are  found  to  be  com- 
monplace, and  barren  of  beauty.  Xo  piece,  how- 
ever, has  been  discarded  from  the  collection  simply 
because  it  was  familiar,  nor  included  simply  be- 
cause it  was  little  known.  Religious  feeling  and 
poetic  beauty  constitute  the  standard  which  the 
editor  has  sought  to  apply. 

It  is  not  claimed  that  the  collection  is  complete, 
but  that  it  is  comprehensive  and  fairly  representa- 
tive. It  contains  one  hundred  and  seventy-seven 
pieces,  extending  over  fifteen  centuries  of  sacred 
song,  and  representing  the  poets  of  eight  distinct 
nationalities.  It  is  hoped  that  the  attempt  made  at 
classification  and  chronological  arrangement  will 
assist  the  reader  in  the  ready  use  of  the  volume. 


PREFATORY  NOTE.  vu 

The  notes  prefixed  to  the  hymns  have  been  pre- 
pared with  care  from  the  best  accessible  soii 
They  are  given  in  the  belief  that  the  interest  of  a 
hymn  is  enhanced  by  a  knowledge  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  it  was  written,  or  of  the  author.  If 
inaccuracies  exist,  the  editor  will  he  glad  to  he 
informed  of  them,  in  order  that  they  may  be  cor- 
rected in  later  editions. 

The  editor  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Whittier,  Bishop 
Coxe,  Dr.  Peabody,  Mr.  A.  I).  F.  Randolph,  Mr. 
C.  B.  Tillinghast,  and  Mr.  A.  P.  Hitchcock,  for 
encouragement  or  advice  ;  and  to  A.  D.  F.  Ran- 
dolph &  Co.,  Dr.  SchafT,  Houghton,  Osgood  &  Co., 
Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney,  Miss  Emily  Seaver,  Miss 
Harriet  McEwen  Kimball,  and  Miss  Emily  P. 
Mann,  for  permission  to  use  copyrighted  poems. 


£ntir.t  of  JTirst  lines. 


Again  the  Lord  of  life  and  light     . 

Aias.  poore  death  !  where  is  thy  glorie  ? 

Alleluia  !  Alleluia  ! 

Alleluia !  Alleluia  ! 

All  hail !  dear  Conqueror  !  all  hail ! 

All  is  o'er,  —  the  pain,  the  sorrow 

All  praise  to  Him  of  Nazareth 

Angels,  roll  the  rock  away     . 

Angels,  to  our  jubilee    .... 

A  pathway  opens  from  the  tomb    . 

Arise 

Arise,  my  soul !  awake  from  sleep 

As  spring's  sweet  breath  after  long  wintry  snow 

As  those  who  seek  the  break  of  day 

Awake,  glad  soul !  awake!  awake 

Awake,  thou  wintry  earth 


Behold  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made 
Blest  morning,  whose  young  dawning  rays 
Breezes  of  spring,  all  earth  to  life  awaking 


Calm  they  sit  with  closed  door 
Christ  has  arisen   . 
Christ  hath  arisen 


PAGE 

21 1 
186 

210 

94 

1    J 

iS 


54 

2     I 

345 


141 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


Christ  hath  arisen  !  O  mountain  peaks  !  attest ! 

Christ  is  become  our  Paschal  Lamb 

Christ  is  risen  !  Alleluia  ! 

Christ  is  risen,  the  Lord  is  come    . 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  again 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day 

Christ,  upon  the  Friday  slain 

Christ,  we  sing  Thy  saving  passion 

Christ  with  mighty  triumph  rises  .         .         . 

Come,  and  let  us  drink  of  that  new  river 

Come,  ye  faithful,  raise  the  strain  . 

Come,  ye  saints,  look  here  and  wonder  . 


Dawn  bursts  o'er  death's  prison    . 

Dawn  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day   . 

Days  grow  longer,  sunbeams  stronger   . 

Dear  Saviour  of  a  dying  world 

Death  and  darkness,  get  you  packing  !  . 

Death,  thou  wast  once  an  uncouth  hideous  thing 

Done  is  a  battle  on  the  dragon  black 

Do  saints  keep  holy  day  in  heavenly  places  ? . 

Ere  yet  the  dawn  has  filled  the  skies 
Eternal  Father  !  at  whose  word 


Fair  spring,  thou  dearest  season  of  the  year  . 

Far  be  sorrow,  tears,  and  sighing  . 

For  Easter  Day,  0  lilies  white  !     . 

Forth  to  the  Paschal  Victim,  Christians,  bring 

From  death,  Christ,  on  the  Sabbath  morn      . 


Glory  be  to  God  on  high 


Hail,  day  of  days  !  in  peals  of  praise 
Hail!  day  of  joyous  rest 
Hail !  the  holy  day  of  days    . 
Hail  the  much-remembered  day 


PAGE 

233 
298 
259 
228 
118 

67 

204 

56 

17 

9i 

4 

12 

218 

163 
339 
308 
285 
199 
187 
169 
326 

123 
324 

"5 

299 

338 
69 


36 

245 
79 
52 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


XI 


Hallelujah  !    I  ... 

Hallowed  forever  be  that  twilight  hour  . 

He  comes!    He  conies  !  the  tomb  . 

He  is  risen  !  He  is  risen  ! 

Helped  by  the  Almighty's  arm,  at  last  . 

Hence  they  have  lx>rrre  my  Lord.      Behold  the  sto 

He's  g   Qe  !  see  where  His  body  lay 

How  brightly  glows  the  morning  red  !    . 

II    \\  shall  we  keep  this  holy  da] 

If  the  dark  and  awful  tomb   . 

I  have  no  wit.  no  words,  no  tears  . 

In  the  bonds  of  death  He  lay 

In  the  tomb,  behold.  He  lies 

In  Thy  glorious  resurrection 

Into  the  dim  earth's  lowest  parts  descending 

1  say  to  all  men  far  and  near 

It  is  the  noon  of  night  .... 

Jesus  Christ  is  risen  to-day    . 
Jesus  hath  vanished  ;  all  in  vain    . 
in  spices  wrapped,  and  laid 
'.ives  :  no  longer  now    . 
Jesus  my  Redeemer  lives 
Jesu,  the  very  thought  of  Thee 
Joy,  O  joy,  ye  broken-hearted  ! 

Lamb,  the  once  crucified 

Let  faithfull  soules  this  double  feast  attend 

Let  us  rise  in  early  morning  . 

Lift  your  glad  voices  in  triumph  on  high 

Light's  glittering  morn  bedecks  the  >ky 

Lord,  who  createdst  man  in  wealth  and  store 

Lo  !  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  . 

Lo  !  the  gates  of  death  are  broken 

Mary  to  her  Saviour's  tomb    . 
Morning  breaks  upon  the  tomb 


216 

143 


M5 


4> 
64 


6 

224 
47 


Xll 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  1 1  NFS. 


Morning  of  the  Sabbath  day  . 

Most  glorious  Lord  of  lyfe  that  on  this  day 

Now  Morning  lifts  her  dewy  veil   . 
Now  the  world's  fresh  dawn  of  birth 
Now  thy  gentle  Lamb,  O  Sion  !     . 


O  Christians,  let  us  joyful  be ! 

O  darkest  woe ! 

O  day  of  days  !  shall  hearts  set  free 

O  glorious  Head,  Thou  livest  now 

O  mine  eyes,  be  not  so  tearful 

Once  more  thou  comest,  O  delicious  spring 

On  earth  was  darkness  spread 

O  risen  Lord,  0  conquering  King 

O  Thou,  the  heavens'  eternal  King 

O  Thou  who  once  from  death  didst  rise 

Our  Paschal  joy  at  last  is  here 


Pain  and  toil  are  over  now     . 

Praise  to  Christ  with  suppliant  voices    . 

Purge  we  out  the  ancient  leaven    . 

Put  on  thy  beautiful  robes,  Bride  of  Christ 

Rejoice,  dear  Christendom,  to-day 

Rise  again,  yes,  rise  again,  wilt  thou 

Rise,  heart,  thy  Lord  is  risen  :  sing  His  praise 

Rise,  heir  of  fresh  eternity     . 


Sabbath  of  the  saints  of  old  . 

Saints  on  earth,  and  saints  in  light 

Saviour  of  mankind,  Man!  Emmanuel! 

Say,  Earth,  why  hast  thou  got  thee  new  attir 

See  the  land,  her  Easter  keeping   . 

Sing  aloud,  children 

Sleep,  sleep,  old  sun  ;  thou  canst  not  have  re 

Smile  praises,  O  sky  !    . 

So  holy  is  this  day  of  days     . 


-past 


PAGE 
222 

171 

83 

49 
63 

106 
125 

230 
*33 
334 
3*7 
335 
m 
85 
40 
161 

276 
42 

59 
296 

"3 

137 
183 
197 

266 

74 
172 

177 
2  74 
325 
L~4 
81 
114 


INDEX  0/   FIRST  LINES. 


XI 11 


s  more  bare 


So  rest,  my  rest     .... 
Spring  is  in  its  beauty  glowing 
Springtide  birds  are  singing,  singing 

Stand  on  thy  watch-tower,  Habakkuk  the  seer 
Still  thy  sorrow,  Magdalcna! 
Sun,  shine  forth  in  all  thy  splendor 

Tell  us,  Gard'ner,  dost  thou  know 

The  calm  of  blessed  night     . 

The  Church  of  God  lifts  up  her  voice 

The  foe  behind,  the  deep  before    . 

The  golden  palace  of  my  God 

The  graves  grow  thicker,  and  life's  way 

The  happy  morn  is  come 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed 

The  Lord  of  life  is  risen 

The  morning  purples  all  the  sky    . 

The  orient  beams  of  Easter  morn 

There  went  three  damsels  at  break  of 

The  setting  orb  of  night  her  level  ray 

The  supper  of  the  Lamb  to  share 

The  tomb  is  empty  :  wouldst  thou  have 

The  winter  is  over  and  gone  at  last 

The  world  itself  keeps  Easter  Day 

They  bound  him  well  in  the  dungeon 

They  who  with  Mary  came    . 

This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made 

This  is  the  very  day  of  God  . 

Thou  hallowed  chosen  morn  of  praise 

Thou  new  Jerusalem,  arise  and  shine  ! 

Thou,  that  on  the  first  of  Easters . 

Thou  whose  sad  heart  and  weeping  head  lyes  low 

Thou,  who  to  save 

'Tis  He!  'tis  He!   I  know  him  now 

'Tis  the  day  of  resurrection  . 

To  Him  who  for  our  sins  was  slain 

'  T was  night  1  still  night  1 


i  cell 


day 


it  full  ? 


70 
*9 

147 

257 

16 

271 

99 

20S 

220 

'54 

38 

in 

214 

29 

254 

323 

2SS 

14 
1  So 

27 


33* 

200 


3'S 


249 
242 


XIV 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LAVES. 


Up,  and  away 

Up  !  sound  your  joyful  songs  victorious 

Weeper !  to  thee  how  bright  a  morn  was  given 

We  keep  the  festival  .... 

Welcome,  O  day,  in  dazzling  glory  bright 

Welcome  the  triumphal  token 

We  were  not  with  the  faithful  few 

What  faithless,  froward,  sinful  man 

What  glorious  light        .... 

What  said  He,  Mary,  unto  thee  ?  . 

Who  comes?  my  soul,  no  longer  doubt. 

Who  deems  the  Saviour  dead  ? 

Who  from  the  fiery  furnace  saved  the  three 

Who  is  this  that  comes  from  Edom  ?     . 

Why,  thou  never-setting  Light 

Words  may  not  thy  glory  tell 


Ye  choirs  of  New  Jerusalem 

Ye  sons  and  daughters  of  the  King 

Yes,  the  Redeemer  rose 


156 

235 
31 
3*3 
51 
295 
190 
196 
268 
213 

34i 

S 

219 

100 

75 

41 

72 
202 


Entici  of  latin  Junius. 


PAGE 

Ad  coenam  Agni  providi 29 

Adeste,  coelitum  chori  .......  94 

Ad  regias  Agni  dapes 31 

Ad  templa  nos  rursus  vocat 

Alleluia  !  Alleluia  !   Finita  jam  sunt  praelia    ....  66 

A  morte  qui  Te  suscitans       .......  40 

Aurora  coelum  purpurat 3S 

Aurora  lucis  dum  novae 88 

Aurora  lucis  rutilat         ........  33 

Cedant  justi  signa  luctus 64 

Chorus  Novae  Jerusalem         .         .         .         .         .         .  41 

Cceli  choris  perennibus 74 

Ecce  dies  Celebris ! 52 

Ecce  tempus  est  vernale 70 

Erumpe  tandem  juste  dolor 

Forti  tegente  brachia 8; 

Haec  est  dies  triumphalis 51 

Haec  est  sancta  solemnitas  solemnitatum        ....  79 

Hie  est  dies  verus  Dei 


XVI  INDEX  OF  LA  TIN  HYMNS. 

PAGE 

Jesu,  dulcis  memoria 45 

Jesu,  Redemptor  saeculi 90 

Laudes  Christo  redempti  voce 42 

Mitis  Agnus,  Leo  fortis .63 

Mortis  portis  fractis,  fortis 47 

Mundi  renovatio 49 

0  filii  et  filiae 72 

Plaudite  cceli 81 

Pone  luctum,  Magdalena ! 61 

Rex  sempiterne  ccelitum 85 

Salve,  dies  dierum  gloria 54 

Salve,  festa  dies,  toto  venerabilis  aevo 36 

Sexta  passus  feria 56 

Surgit  Christus  cum  trophaeo 91 

Surrexit  Christus  hodie 96 

Te  quanta  Victor  funeds 75 

Victimae  Paschali  laudes 67,  69 

Zyma  vetus  expurgetur 59 


3-ntirx  of  Hutfjors. 


The  names  to  which  an  asterisk  is  prefixed  are  those  of  authors  con- 
cerning whom  no  biographical  data  have  been  obtained. 

Adam  of  St.  Victor.        .        .        .         49,  51.  52.  54.  56,  59 

Adams,  Sarah  Flower 247 

Alexander,  Cecil  Frances 2;: 

Alford,  Henry    .        .  257 

Allen,  William 313 

Ambrose,  St : 

Barbauld,   Anna  L.etitia 211 

Baynes,  Robert  Hall 291 

Beaumont,  John 175 

Bernard  of  Clairyaux 45 

Bethune,   George  W 31S 

♦Blackburn,   Thomas 301 

Bobroff,  Semen  Sergejewitsch     .        .        .  99,  100 

Boehmer.  Justus  H. 1^1 

BONAR,    HORATIUS 254 

Bowles,   William  Lisle 213 

Brandenburg,  Electress  of 127 

Bryant,  William  Cullen 316 

Cary,  Phcebe 354 

Collyer,  William  Bengo 227 

xvii 


XV111  INDEX   OF  AUTHORS. 

Coxe,  A.  Cleveland 320,  323 

Crashaw,   Richard 197 

Croswell,  William 317 

Dix,  William  Chatterton 296 

Doddridge,  Philip 202 

Donne,  John 174 

Dunbar,  William 169 

Faber,  Frederick  W 263,  264 

Fletcher,  Giles 177 

Fortunatus,  Venantius 36 

Frank,  Solomon 129 

Franzen,  F.  Michael 163 

Fulbert  of  Chartres 41 

Garve,  Christian 139 

Gellert,  Christian  F 135 

Goethe,  Johann  Wolfgang  von Hi 

Grahame,  James         .        .        .        .        ....  214 

Greenwell,  Dora 268 

Grundtvig,  Nicolai  Frederik  Severin       .        .        .  105 

Hardenberg,  Friedrich  von 145 

Harvey,  Christopher 18S 

Haweis,  Thomas 208 

Heerman,  Johann 123 

Hemans,  Felicia 233,  235 

Herbert,  George 183,  185,  186,  187 

Herrick,  Robert 182 

Hill,  Thomas 324 

Ingelow,  Jean 277 

Janvier,  Francis  De  Haes 341 

John  of  Damascus     .  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  10,  11,  12,  14,  15 

Keble,  John 230 

Kelly,  Thomas 216,  218,  219,  220 


INDEX  OJ-  AUTHORS. 


xix 


Kimball,  Harribi   m. 
Kjngo,  Thomas    . 
KJNGSLEY,  Cii  irlss      . 
Klopstock,  Fried  rich  G. 


Lange,  Johanm  Pbter 

LlTTLEDALE,    Rl CHARD    1   .   . 
Lowe,  Martha  P. 
Luther,  Martin 


M.wt,  Richard  . 
MlLMAN,  Henry  H.  . 
Monsell,  John  S.  li.  . 
Montgomery,  James  . 
Moultrie,  Gerard  . 
Moultrie,  John  . 


Neale,  John  Mason  . 
Newman,  John  Henry 
Newton,  John     . 
Noyalis.  —  See  Hardenberg. 


•  103 

•  274 

•  1  v 


>51 

329 
120 


27.| 
22.S 


259,  26l 

.   222 

.   2.6 


242 
207 


Peter  the  Venerable 47 

Petersen,  Laurence 161 

Oueinfurt,  Conrad  yon 115 

*  Ramus, 106 

Rist,  Johann  yon 125 

Rossetti,  Christina  G 2S1 

Russell,  Arthur  T. 249,  250 

Sandys,  George 172 

Schweizer,  Meta  Hausser 150 

Sea  ye  r,  Emily 331 

Scott,  Thomas 210 

Spenser,  Edmund 171 

Spitta,  C.  J.  P 147 


XX  INDEX  OF  AUTHORS. 

Taylor,  Jeremy 196 

Tersteegen,  Gerhard 133 

Thompson,  Alexander  Ramsay 325 

Trend,  Henry 245 

Tourneaux,  Nicholas  Le 94 

Vaughn,  Henry 199,  200 

Ware,  Henry,  Jun .        .  314 

Waring,  Anna  L^etitia 285 

Washburn,  E.  A .        .  332 

Watts,  Isaac 201 

Wesley,  Charles 204 

Whitney,  A.  D.  T 326 

Whytehead,  Thomas 266 

Wither,  George 180 

Wordsworth,  Christopher 251 


Entirx  of  (Translators. 


Blew,  William  John 94 

Borthwick,   Jane 139 

Bowring,  John 99,  100 

Caswall,  Edward 45.  69,  ) 

Chambers.   John  David 

Chandler,  John 

Charles,  Elizabeth 27.  29,47,  81 

Cox,  Frances  Elizabeth 155 

Pix.  William  Chatterton      .        .        .14,  15,  16,  17,  18 

Findlater,   Mrs.   Eric 159 

Harbaugh,  Henry 154 

Hedge.  Frederick  H 141 

Hewett,  John  William 79,  91 

Hitchcock,  A.  P 163 

Kvnaston,  Herbert 04 

LlTTLEDALE.    RlCHARD    FREDERICK  .  42.    56,    14;.    l6l 

Massie,  Richard 147 

Xeale,  John  Mason.   3,  4,  5, 6,  7,8,  i   .11.  12.  33,  52,  59,  66,  72 

xxi 


XX11  INDEX   OF   TRANSLATORS. 

Onslow,  Phipps 19,  74 

Porter,  Thomas  C 150 

Smith,  John  George 40 

Tait,  Gilbert 103,  105,  106 

Thompson,  Alexander  Ramsay      .        .        .        .         31,  38 

Thompson,  Henry 156 

Trend,  Henry 63,  ;o 

Washburn,  E.  A 61 

Weiss,  Michael 118 

Williams,  Isaac 90 

Winkworth,    Catherine  .  in,   113,   114,   115,  118,   120, 

123,  125,  127,  131,  133,  13;,  145 

Worsley,  P.  S 49,  51 


Entrotmcttcm. 


IN  the  early  Church,  the  Resurrection  of 
Christ  was  regarded  as  the  most  important 
fact  in  the  record  of  His  life,  and  still 
more  as  the  foremost  article  of  Christian  belief,  — 
as  that  without  which  it  was  impossible  to  place 
any  confidence  in  the  Saviour's  teachings,  or  to 
ascribe  any  efficacy  to  His  death.  "  If  Christ  be 
not  risen."  writes  St.  Paul,  "our  preaching  is  vain, 
and  your  faith  is  also  vain."  This  event  has  left  a 
deeper  impress  on  the  world's  history  than  any 
other  on  record.  It  does  not  depend  for  its  evi- 
dence even  on  the  Gospels.  Were  they  lost  or  dis- 
credited, there  yet  occurred,  beyond  a  doubt,  in  the 
century  to  which  they  relate,  intellectual,  moral, 
and  social  developments  and  changes,  which  can 
be  accounted  for  only  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
from  the  dead.  The  sceptics  of  our  own  time  ad- 
mit that  the  Apostles  could  not  have  held  together 
or  pursued  their  work  of  propagandism,  and  that 
Christianity  could  not  have  survived  its  Founder's 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION. 

cross,  had  not  His  followers  felt  certain  that  their 
Master  had  risen,  and  that  they  had  seen  Him.  It 
is  conceded  even  by  Renan,  that  the  stories  of  the 
Evangelists  are  honest  statements  of  what  they 
thought  had  passed  under  the  eyes  of  various  groups 
of  disciples,  —  at  one  time,  of  several  hundred  per- 
sons. But  he  does  not  explain  how  an  optical  illu- 
sion could  have  been  kept  up  at  intervals  for  forty 
days,  before  different  groups,  and  in  clear  sunlight, 
in  the  open  air,  on  the  lake-shore  and  the  moun- 
tain-side, no  less  than  in  the  evening-gloom  of  the 
upper  chamber. 

That  the  whole  Church  believed  in  the  reality  of 
this  life  from  the  dead,  we  have  abundant  evidence. 
St.  Paul's  earliest  Epistles  were  confessedly  written 
but  a  few  years  after  the  crucifixion,  and  they  con- 
stantly refer  to  the  Resurrection  as  a  fact  undoubted 
in  Christian  circles.  In  the  generation  next  suc- 
ceeding that  of  the  Apostles,  there  grew  up  a  con- 
troversy as  to  the  proper  time  of  keeping  Easter ; 
and  appeal  was  then  made  to  primitive  usage,  as  if 
the  Resurrection  had  been  celebrated  from  the 
very  first.  Indeed,  we  know  it  had  from  the  be- 
ginning a  weekly  celebration  :  for  there  is  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  any  religious  observance  of  the 
first  day  of  the  week  before  the  time  of  Christ ; 
while  we  find  that  it  was  a  day  of  Christian  wor- 
ship within  a  few  weeks  after  He  had  disappeared 
from  the  earth,  and  we  have  abundant  proof  that  it 
was  so  hallowed  as  the  day  on  which  He  rose. 


INTRODUCTION.  XXV 

This  event  is  properly  railed  the  resurrection,  the 
rising  again,  —  not  the  coming  of  the  dead  to  life, 

but  the  re-appearance  of  Him  who  had  lived  on  in 
death,  and  who  returned  to  the  dead  body  to  show 
that  it  is  the  body  alone  that  can  die.  Thus  our 
Saviour  in  His  own  person  "  abolished  death,"  — 
blotted  it  out  from  among  the  possible  experiences 
of  any  and  every  living  soul.  Those,  then,  who 
have  gone  from  us,  and  have  seemed  to  die,  still 
live ;  and  for  us  death  will  be  but  a  passage  from 
life  to  life. 

All  this  might,  indeed,  have  been  proclaimed  on 
Divine  authority ;  but  mere  words  —  even  though 
words  of  God  —  would  have  foiled  fully  to  meet 
man's  needs.  No  event  takes  so  strong  hold  as 
death  on  the  imagination  and  the  emotional  nature. 
The  altered  countenance,  the  wasted  frame,  the 
agony  of  parting,  the  grave  with  its  mysterious 
horrors,  cannot  but  recur  to  make  the  memory  of 
the  departed  intensely  painful,  and  to  shroud  in  the 
densest  gloom  the  prospect  of  our  own  dissolution. 
It  is  therefore  a  solace  of  indispensable  need,  and 
unspeakable  worth  and  efficacy,  that  all  the  sad 
accessories  of  death  in  their  most  appalling  forms 
were  about  our  Lord,  and  that  they  have  all  been 
transfigured  by  His  rising,  —  symbols  no  longer  of 
decay  and  corruption,  but  of  emancipation  into  the 
higher  and  eternal  life. 

The  Resurrection  is  thus  brought  within  the  field 
of  poetry.     While   it  commends  itself  to  faith  by 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION. 

an  array  of  impregnable  proof,  it  equally  appeals 
to  feeling  and  sentiment.  The  gorgeous  beauty  of 
an  Oriental  spring  surrounding  the  Sepulchre  with 
bloom  and  fragrance ;  the  rolling-away  of  the  rock 
by  unseen  hands  ;  the  white-robed  angels  where  the 
dead  had  lain ;  the  procession  of  the  sorrowing 
women ;  the  interview  with  Mary  Magdalene  ;  the 
movements  —  so  perfectly  in  character  —  of  Peter 
and  John ;  the  walk  to  Emmaus,  and  the  supper 
there  ;  the  leaping  from  mouth  to  mouth  and  from 
heart  to  heart  of  the  glad  tidings,  "  The  Lord  has 
risen  indeed  !  "  —  these,  and  not  a  few  other  features 
of  the  scene  and  incidents  of  the  day,  have  in  them 
elements  of  transcending  beauty  and  grandeur,  and 
furnish  a  mine  of  poetic  fancy  and  imagery,  which 
has  been  worked  from  the  very  birth-time  of  Chris- 
tian hymnology,  and  which  will  still  open  new  and 
rich  veins  for  sacred  lyrics  in  all  coming  genera- 
tions. 

A  volume  of  Easter-hymns  might,  at  first  thought, 
promise  but  little  variety.  The  truth  is  far  other- 
wise. As  from  a  few  lines  and  tints  an  endless 
number  of  patterns,  all  differing  from  one  another, 
may  be  drawn  for  a  carpet  or  a  wall-paper,  so  may 
innumerable  combinations  and  groupings  be  made 
from  a  few  simple  incidents,  with  the  associations 
inseparable  from  them,  and  the  thoughts  that  natu- 
rally flow  from  them.  It  is  thus  that  no  two  hymns 
on  the  same  subject  are  alike,  and  that  no  hymn 
that  unites  devotional  and  poetic  merit  can  ever  be 


INTRODUCTION.  xxvii 

dispensed  with  because  of  its  resemblance  to  an- 
other. This  is  especially  true  of  the  hymns  and 
poems  that  commemorate  the  Resurrection, 
theme  of  sacred  song  has  a  wider  range.  It  con- 
nects itself  with  all  our  sorrows,  our  hopes,  and  our 
joys;  with  all  that  sheds  sun-rays  of  heaven  upon 
our  earthly  life  ;  with  the  blessed  memories  of  those 
who  sleep  in  Jesus  ;  with  the  fellowship  that  unites 
the  households  which  death  has  parted,  and  makes 
of  the  whole  family  of  Christian  believers  "  one 
church,  above,  beneath." 

Nor  has  there  been  any  subject  which  has  called 
forth  so  wide  a  diversity  of  inspiration.  We  have 
the  rich  mellifluous  strains  of  the  old  Greek  hymns, 
the  terse,  sonorous,  majestic  melodies  of  the  Latin 
Church,  the  calm,  meditative  fervor  of  the  German 
Muse,  and,  in  our  own  tongue,  the  quaintness  of 
our  early  poets,  and,  in  later  time,  every  mood  of 
lyric  rhythm,  now  slow  and  solemn,  now  soaring 
and  jubilant  as  the  song  of  the  lark,  and  again  in 
a  tone  of  tender  and  subdued  gladness,  as  of  one 
whose  inward  vision  turns  from  the  grave  of  buried 
kindred  to  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay. 

May  this  Easter  offering  lift  many  hearts  in  glad 
thanksgiving  to  Him  who  has  conquered  death,  in 
whom  the  dead  live,  and  in  whom  he  that  believeth 
shall  never  die  ! 

ANDREW    P\   PEABODY. 


'STILL  on  the  lips  of  all  we  question 
The  finger  of  God's  silence  lies: 
Shall  the  lost  hands  in  ours  be  folded  ? 
Will  the  shut  eyelids  ever   rise? 

O  friends!    no  proof  beyond  this  yearning, 
This  outreach  of  our  souls,   we  need  : 

God  will  not  mock  the  hope    He  givcth  ; 
No  love  He  prompts  shall  vainly  plead. 

Then  let  us  stretch  our  hands  in   darkness, 
And  call  our  loved  ones  o'er  and  o'er: 

Some  time  their  arms  shall  close  about  us, 
And  the  old  voices  speak  once  more." 

J.  G.  Whittier. 


JTrom  tl)c  (Brcck. 


> 


U  csu  vgit. 


Tis  tljc  Dag  of  ftcsurrfctton. 

By   St.  John   Da]  ho  was  unquestionably  the  greatest  of 

the  poets  of  the  Eastern  Church.  The  date  of  his  birth  is  unknown;  and 
of  his  death  all  that  is  certain  is  that  it  occurred  after  754,  and  before 
787.  He  was  born  of  a  good  family,  made  great  progress  in  philosophy, 
was  an  eloquent  adversary  of  the  Iconoclasts,  resided  for  a  time  at  the 
monastery  of  St.  Sabas  in  Palestine,  and  late  in  life  was  ordained  priest 
of  the  Church  of  Jerusalem.  The  following  is  the  first  Ode  of  his  great 
Easter  Canon,  which  is  to  this  day  sung  by  the  Greek  Church,  at  the 
first  hour  of  Easter  morning,  with  even,'  sort  of  jubilant  accompaniment, 
—  the  flashing  of  light  from  thousands  of  tapers,  the  joyous  strains  of 
bands  of  music,  the  roll  of  drums,  and  thunder  of  cannon.  The  translation 
Rev.  J.  M.  NEALE,  I). D.,  and  is  contained  in  his  "Hymns  of  the 
Eastern  Church."  See  biographical  note  prefixed  to  the  piece,  "  The  Foe 
behind,  the  Deep  before." 


IS  the  Day  of  Resurrection  : 

Earth  !  tell  it  out  abroad  ! 
The  Passover  of  Gladness, 
The  Passover  of  God. 
From  Death  to  Life  eternal, 

From  this  world  to  the  sky, 
Our  Christ  hath  brought  us  over, 
With  hymns  of  victory. 

3 


LET  US  DRINK  OF  THAT  NEW  RIVER. 

Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil, 

That  we  may  see  aright 
The  Lord  in  rays  eternal 

Of  Resurrection-Light ; 
And,  listening  to  His  accents, 

May  hear,  so  calm  and  plain, 
His  own  All  Hail !  —  and,  hearing, 

May  raise  the  victor  strain  ! 

Now  let  the  Heavens  be  joyful ! 

Let  Earth  her  song  begin  ! 
Let  the  round  world  keep  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein  ; 
Invisible  and  visible, 

Their  notes  let  all  things  blend  ; 
For  Christ  the  Lord  hath  risen,  — 

Our  joy  that  hath  no  end. 


Come,  anti  3Lrt  us  Brinft  of  tijat  Neto 

By   St.   John   Damascene:    the   third   Ode   in   his   Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Xeale. 

OME,  and  let  us  drink  of  that  New 
River, 
Not     from     barren     rock    divinely 
poured, 


"AND   ON   T//Y   WATCH-TOWER.  5 

But  the  Fount  of  Life  that  is  forever 
From  the  sepulchreof  Christ  the  LorH 

All  the  world  hath  bright  illumination,  — 
I  leaven  and  Earth,  and  things  beneath  the 

earth  : 
Tis  the  festival  of  all  Creation  ; 

Christ     hath     risen,    Who    gave     Creation 
birth. 

Yesterday  with  Thee  in  burial  lying, 
Now  to-day  with  Thee  arisen,  I  rise: 

Yesterday  the  partner  of  Thy  dying, 
With  Thyself  upraise  me  to  the  skies. 


Stant)  on  tljrj  BHatcfcSTofoer,  |?afeaftftuft 
tljr  Seer. 

By  St.  John  Damascene:    the   fourth  Ode   in   his   Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Xeale. 


TAXD    on  thy  watch-tower,   Habak- 

kuk  the  Seer, 
And  show  the  Angel,  radiant  in  his 
light: 
"  To-day,"  saith  he,  u  Salvation  shall  appear, 
Because  the  Lord  hath    risen    as    God    of 
might" 


6         LET  US  RISE  IX  EARLY  MORNING, 

The  male  that  opes  the  Virgin's  womb  is  He  : 
The  Lamb  of  Whom  His  faithful  people  eat ; 

Our  truer  Passover,  from  blemish  free  ; 

Our  very  God,  Whose  name  is  all  complete. 

This  yearling  Lamb,  our  Sacrifice  most  blest, 
Our  glorious  Crown,  for  all  men  freely  dies  : 

Behold  our  Pascha,  beauteous  from  His  rest, 
The  healing  Sun  of  Righteousness  arise. 

Before  the  ark,  a  type  to  pass  away, 

David  of  old  time  danced  :  we,  holier  race, 

Seeing  the  Antitype  come  forth  to-dav, 

Hail,  with  a  shout,  Christ's  own  almighty 
irrace. 


ikt  us  £visc  in  !5arlg  fSorntng* 

By   St.   John    Damascene:    the   fifth   Ode   in   his   Easter  Canon, 
Translated  by  Dr.  Neale. 

ET  us  rise  in  early  morning, 

And,  instead  of  ointments,  bring 
Hymns  of  praises  to  our  Master, 
And  His  Resurrection  sing  : 
We  shall  see  the  Sun  of  Justice, 
Risen  with  healing  on  His  wing. 


:/  EARTH'S  LOWEST  PARTS    / 

Thy  unbounded  loving-kindn 

They  that  groaned  in  Hades'  chain, 

Prisoners,  from  afar  beholding, 
1  i  istened  to  the  light  again  ; 

And  to  that  eternal  Pascha 

Wove  the  dance,  and  raised  the  strain. 

Go  ye  forth,  His  Saints,  to  meet  Him  ! 

Go  with  lamps  in  every  hand  ! 
From  the  sepulchre  He  riseth  : 

Ready  for  the  Bridegroom  stand  : 
And  the  Pascha  of  Salvation 

Hail,  with  his  triumphant  band  ! 


Into  tijc    Dim   IZartfj's    ILoforst    $3  arts 
Descending* 

By   St.   John    Damascene:    the   sixth   Ode  in  his   Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Xeale. 


XTO    the    dim    earth's    lowest    parts 
descending, 

— ^^     And    bursting    by    Thy    might    the 

infernal  chain 
That    bound    the    prisoners,    Thou,  at    three 
days'  ending, 
As  Jonah  from  the  whale,  hast  risen  again. 


8  WHO   FROM   THE  FIERY  FURNACE 

Thou    brakest    not    the    seal,    Thy   surety's 
token, 
Arising  from  the  tomb,  Who  left'st  in  birth 
The  portals  of  virginity  unbroken, 

Opening  the  gates  of   heaven    to    sons  of 
earth. 

Thou,  Sacrifice  ineffable  and  living, 
Didst  to  the  Father  by  Thyself  atone 

As  God  eternal ;  resurrection  giving 

To  Adam,  general  parent,  by  Thine  own. 


SHIjo  from  tfje  JFterg  jfttrnace  Sa&eU  tije 

By  St.  John  Damascene:    the  seventh  Ode  of  his  Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Neale. 

HO  from  the  fiery  furnace  saved  the 
Three, 
Suffers  as  mortal;  that,  His  Passion 
o'er, 
This  mortal,  triumphing  o'er  death,  might  b^ 
Vested  with  immortality  once  more  : 
He  whom  our  fathers  still  confest 
God  over  all,  forever  blest. 


SAVED    THE    THREE.  y 

The   women    with    their    ointment    seek    the 
tomb  ; 
And   Whom   they    mourned   as  dead,   with 
many  a  tear, 
They    worship    now,    joy    dawning    on    their 
gloom, 
As  Living  God,  as  mystic  Passover; 
Then  to  the  Lord's  disciples  gave 
The  tidings  of  the  vanquished  grave. 

We  keep  the  festal  of  the  death  of  death  ; 
Of    hell    o'erthrown  ;    the  first-fruits,  pure 
and  bright, 
Of  life  eternal  ;  and,  with  joyous  breath, 
Praise  Him  that  won   the  victory  by  His 
might  : 
Him  Whom  our  fathers  still  confest 
God  over  all,  forever  blest. 

All  hallowed  festival,  in  splendor  born  ! 

Night  of  salvation  and  of  glory  !     Night 
Fore-heralding  the  Resurrection  morn  ! 

When  from  the  tomb  the  everlasting  Light, 
A  glorious  frame  once  more  His  own, 
Upon  the  world  in  splendor  shone. 


IO        THOU  HALLOWED   CHOSEN  MORN. 


STfjou  f&allotortj  Cfjogen  flom  of  praise. 

By    St.   John   Damascene:  the  eighth   Ode  of  his  Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Neale. 

HOU  hallowed  chosen  morn  of  praise, 

That  best  and  greatest  shinest ! 
t  Lady  and  Queen  and  Day  of  days, 
Of  things  divine,  divinest ! 
On  thee  our  praises  Christ  adore 
For  ever  and  for  evermore. 

Come,  let  us  taste  the  Vine's  new  fruit, 

For  heavenly  joy  preparing  ; 
To-day  the  branches  with  the  Root 
In  Resurrection  sharing: 

Whom  as  True  God  our  hymns  adore, 
For  ever  and  for  evermore. 

Rise,  Sion,  rise,  and,  looking  forth, 
Behold  thy  children  round  thee! 
From  East  and  West,  and  South  and  North, 
Thy  scattered  sons  have  found  thee ! 
And  in  thy  bosom  Christ  adore 
For  ever  and  for  evermore. 


THOU  NEW  JERUSALEM,  ARISE!         \  I 

<  I  Father  !     < )  co-equal  Son  ! 

I  l    o-eternal  Spirit ! 
In  Persons  Three,  in  Substance  One, 
And  ( )ne  in  power  and  merit  : 

In  Thee  baptized,  we  Thee  adore 
For  ever  and  for  evermore  ! 


Cfjou  Xcfo  Jerusalem,  3rtsc  anti  iSfjmc ! 


By  St.  J  >hn  Damascene:  the  ninth  Ode  in  his  Easter  Canon. 
Translated  by  Dr.  Neale.  There  is  another  translation  by  William 
Chatterton  Dix,  beginning,  "  Shine,  shine,  0  New  Jerusalem; 


HOU  Xew  Jerusalem,  arise  and  shine! 
The  grlorv  of  the  Lord  on  thee  hath 


■ 


risen. 
Sion,  exult  !  rejoice  with  joy  divine  ! 

Mother  of  God!    Thy  Son   hath  burst  his 


prison  ! 


O  heavenly  Voice  !     O  word  of  purest  love  ! 

"  Lo  !   I  am  with  you  alway  to  the  end  !  " 
This  is  the  anchor,  steadfast  from  above,  — 

The    golden    anchor,    whence    our    hopes 
depend. 


12    COME,  YE  FAITHFUL,  RAISE  THE  STRAIN. 

O  Christ,  our  Pascha !  greatest,  holiest,  best ! 

God's    Word    and    Wisdom    and    effectual 
Might ! 
Thy  fuller,  lovelier  presence  manifest, 

In  that  eternal  realm  that  knows  no  night ! 


Come,  |fe  jFattijM,  Batse  tfje  Strain. 

From  St.  John  Damascene,  by  Dr.  Neale.  It  is  commonly 
classed  among  Easter  hymns,  although  it  belongs  in  his  canon  for  St. 
Thomas's  Sunday,  or  Low  Sunday,  as  indicated  by  the  allusion  in  the  last 
stanza. 

jiOME,  ye  faithful,  raise  the  strain 
Of  triumphant  gladness  ! 
God  hath  brought  His  Israel 
Into  joy  from  sadness  ; 
Loosed  from  Pharaoh's  bitter  yoke 

Jacob's  sons  and  daughters  ; 
Led  them  with  unmoistened  foot      * 
Through  the  Red  Sea  waters. 

'Tis  the  spring  of  souls  to-day  ! 

Christ  hath  burst  His  prison  ; 
And,  from  three  days'  sleep  in  death, 

As  a  sun  hath  risen. 


COM/:,  YE  FAITHFUL,  RAISE  THE  STRAW.    I  3 

All  the  winter  of  our  sins, 

Long  and  dark,  is  flying 
From  His  light,  to  Whom  we  give 

Laud  and  praise  undying. 

Now  the  queen  of  seasons,  bright 

With  the  day  of  splendor, 
With  the  royal  Feast  of  feasts, 

Comes  its  joy  to  render  ; 
Comes  to  glad  Jerusalem, 

Who  with  true  affection 
Welcomes,  in  unwearied  strains, 

Jesu's  Resurrection. 

Neither  might  the  gates  of  death, 

Nor  the  tomb's  dark  portal, 
N  >r  the  watchers,  nor  the  seal, 

Hold  Thee  as  a  mortal ; 
But  to-day  amidst  the  twelve 

Thou  didst  stand,  bestowing 
That  Thy  peace,  which  evermore 

Passeth  human  knowing. 


14  THEY  WHO    11777/  MARY  CAME. 


(Ljjcii  foljo  fottfj  ffiarg  came. 


From  the  Greek  of  St.  John  Damascene,  translated  by  William 
Chatterton  Dix.  See  biographical  note  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  Put 
on  Thy  Beautiful  Robes,  Bride  of  Christ." 


HEY  who  with  Mary  came, 
Before  the  dawn  of  day, 
Soon  found  that  from  the  sepulchre 
The  stone  was  rolled  away. 

Then  to  those  fearful  souls 

The  shining  Angel  said,  — 
Him  who  in  light  eternal  dwells, 

Why  seek  ye  with  the  dead  ? 

The  grave-clothes  see,  and  haste 

The  joyful  news  to  tell  : 
The  Lord  is  risen,  and  He  hath  been 

The  death  of  death  and  hell. 

He  is  the  Son  of  God, 

Who  saves  the  human  race  : 
Xo  more  shall  death  destroy,  no  more 

The  ancient  foe  have  place. 


IF  THE  DARK  AND  AWFUL    TOMB. 


ft  tljr  Darft  anti  3foful  Comb. 

This  also  is  from  the  ('.reck  of  St.  JOHN  DAMASCENE,  ami  the  trans- 
lation by  William  C.   I > i x . 

| |F  the  dark  and  awful  tomb 

Thou,  immortal  One,  hast  known, 
Rising,  in  Thy  deathless  bloom, 
Hades  Thou  hast  overthrown. 

Yes  ;  as  Victor  Thou  hast  burst 
All  the  bands  of  hell,  and  said, 

Hail !  to  those  who  sought  Thee  first, 
Bearing  ointment  for  the  dead  ; 

Peace,  Thy  earliest,  sweetest  gift, 
Unto  Thine  Apostles  given  ; 

All  the  fallen  Thou  didst  lift 

From  the  crates  of  hell  to  heaven. 


1 6  THE  CHURCH  OF  COD. 


Cfje  Cfjurcfj  of  ffiotr  lifts  up  f^rr  Fotcr. 

A  Greek  Paschal  hymn,  from  the  Offices  of  the  Greek  Church,  trans- 
lated by  William  C.  Dix. 


HE  Church  of  God  lifts  up  her  voice  ; 
To-day    both    heaven   and   earth    re- 
joice : 

The  gladsome  Passover  is  here,  — 
The  Passover  of  Christ  most  dear. 

The  Passover  that  frees  from  woe, 
That  binds  in  chains  the  ancient  foe, 
That  opens  wide  the  heavenly  gate, 
The  Lord's  own  day,  we  celebrate. 

From  "very  early"  until  night, 
One  strain  we  lift,  one  shout  of  might : 
With  Eucharist  the  morn  arose, 
With  Hallelujahs  day  shall  close. 

O  Christ,  eternal  Pascha,  Thou, 
And  Crown  for  every  willing  brow ! 
Thou  spotless  Lamb  and  Victor  bright, 
Arrayed  in  more  than  morning  light ! 


CHRIST,  WE  SING  THY  SAVING  PASSION    17 

On  this  Thy  Resurrection-day 
strife  and  hate  put  faraway, 
That  those  who  in  thy  likeness  live 
May  each  his  brother's  wrongs  forgive. 

The  earth  in  festal  raiment  stands, 
The  floods  for  gladness  clap  their  hands  : 
Then  higher  still,  and  higher  raise 
The  true,  the  living  Pascha's  praise. 


Cijrtst,  foe  $in$  3TIjo  Sa&mg  passion. 

From  the  Offices  of  the  Greek  Church,  translated  by  William  C.  Dix. 


HRIST,  we  sing  Thy  saving  passion: 
Thine  arising  glorify  : 
Death  forever  to  abolish, 

Thou  upon  the  Cross  didst  die  ; 
Then  from  Hades  Thou  didst  hasten, 

As  alone  omnipotent  : 
Grant  us  peace  in  life,  Redeemer, 
Joy  when  earthly  life  is  spent. 

Sing  we  now  Thy  condescension, 
Christ,  with  God  the  Father  One  ; 

We  in  lofty  hymns  will  praise  Thee, 
Mary-Mother's  Blessed  Son. 


1 8    THOSE   WHO  SEEK  THE  BREAK  OF  DAY. 

Thou  for  us  as  Alan  didst  suffer, 
Willingly  the  Cross  didst  bear; 

That  Thy  resurrection-glory, 

We,  the  sons  of  men,  may  share. 

Coming  as  from  bridal  chamber, 

Robed  with  orient  morning-light ; 
Bringing  to  the  world  salvation, 

Spoiling  hell  of  all  her  might ; 
Raising,  by  Thy  resurrection, 

Man  to  dignity  most  high  : 
Christ,  may  we  with  pure  thanksgiving 

Thee  forever  glorify ! 


Ste  £f)ose  foijo  Seeft  tfje  Brtafe  of  Bag. 

Translated  from  the  Offices  of  the  Greek  Church,  by  William  C.  Dix. 

|S  those  who  seek  the  break  of  day 
Full  early  in  the  morning, 
The  women  came  where  Jesus  lay, 
Who  late  had  borne  the  scorning. 
Sweet  ointment  in  their  hands  they  brought, 

And,  ere  the  sun  had  risen, 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  they  sought, 
Now  set  within  death's  prison. 


SPRINGTIDE  BIRDS  ARE  SINGING.       ig 

And  thus  they  cried  :  ''The  Body  h< 
Let  us  give  new  anointing; 

The  quickening  flesh,  the  Body  dear, 

Which,  by  Divine  appointing, 
From  this  chirk  sepulchre  shall  rise, 

id  Adam's  race  deliver, 
And  lift  the  fallen  to  the  skies, 
To  reign  in  bliss  forever." 

And,  like  the  Magi,  hasten  we 

To  Him  with  love  adoring: 
Sweet  spices,  too,  our  gifts  shall  be, 

And  we  must  weep,  imploring 
That  He,  in  swaddling  clothes  no  more, 

But  in  fine  linen  lying, 
Would  -"rant  the  fallen,  when  life  is  o'er. 

The  gift  of  life  undying. 

SpringtitJC  BtrtiS  arc  Ringing,  Singing- 

The  following  i>  contained  in  <;  Lyra  My>tica,"  under  the  title  "The 
Salutation  of  the  Greek  Church  on  Easter  Day."  The  translation  is  by- 
Rev.  PmPPS  ONSLOW.  See  the  biographical  notice  prefixed  to  the  hymn, 
"  Saints  on  Earth,  and  Saints  in  Light." 

PRIXGTIDE  birds  are  singing,  sing- 
ing, 
For  the  daybreak  in  the  East  : 
Silver  bells  are  ringing,  ringing. 
For  the  Church's  glorious  Feast. 


20       SPRINGTIDE   BIRDS  ARE  SINGING. 

Christ  is  risen  !  Christ  is  risen  ! 

Sin's  long  triumph  now  is  o'er. 
Christ  is  risen  !    Death's  dark  prison 
Now  can  hold  His  Saints  no  more. 
Christ  is  risen  !  risen,  Brother  ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Holy  women  sought  Him  weeping, 

Weeping  at  the  break  of  dawn,  — 
Sought  their  Lord  where  He  lay  sleeping, 

In  the  love  of  hearts  forlorn. 
Life  for  death  on  death's  throne  meeting, 

Joy  for  sorrow,  faith  for  fear, 
For  their  tears  the  Angel's  greeting, — 

Christ  is  risen  !  He  is  not  here. 

Christ  is  risen  !  risen,  Brother  ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed ! 

Loved  Apostles,  scarce  believing 

In  His  triumph  o'er  the  grave, 
Hear  the  tale  amid  their  grieving, 

Hasten  eager  to  the  Cave ; 
Find  the  folded  grave-clothes  lying, 

Death's  unloosed  and  shattered  chain, 
Find  Him  gone,  death's  power  defying, 

From  the  Cavern  sealed  in  vain. 

Christ  is  risen!  risen,  Brother! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 


RING  TIDE  BIRDS  ARE  SINGING,      21 

Mary  coi 

For  her  mourning  and  I  me  : 

Lo!  a  well-known  voice  is  speakii 

:  calls  her  name. 
First,  the  life  o'er  sin  victorious, 
She  who  wept  for  sin  adored, 
For  her  tears  the  mission  glorious 

To  announce  the  Risen  Lord. 

Christ  is  risen!  risen.  Brother! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 


For  her  tears,  O  glad  reversing 

Of  the  Woman's  work  of  old, 
Glorious  tidings  now  rehearsing  ; 

t  the  tale  in  Eden  told, 
W'mnan's  voice,  that  tale  supplying, 
Brought  in  death  by  Satan's  lie  : 
Woman's  voice  is  now  replying, — 
Christ  is  risen  !   we  shall  not  die. 

Christ  is  risen  !   risen,  Brother  ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 


Where  the  noontide  rays  are  falling 
On  the  rugged  mountain-side, 

Brethren  journey,  sad  recalling 
How  He  loved,  and  how  He  died. 


22       SPRINGTIDE   BIRDS  ARE  SINGING. 

He  is  with  them  !   He  is  hearing- 
How  their  trust  and  hope  had  fled, 
To  their  loving  faith  appearing 
In  the  blessing  of  the  Bread. 

Christ  is  risen  !  risen,  Brother ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Flashing  back  the  sunset  glory, 

Burns  a  casement  high  and  dim  : 
There  the  Ten,  on  all  His  Story 

Sadly  dwelling,  speak  of  Him. 
He  is  there  !  the  Light  that  never 

Into  twilight  fades  away  ; 
Day-star  of  the  Dawn  that  ever 

Breaks  into  the  perfect  Day  ! 

Christ  is  risen  !  risen,  Brother ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Saints,  your  Cross  in  patience  bearing, 

Mourners  stained  with  many  a  tear, 
Penitents,  in  sorrow  wearing 

Darkest  weeds  of  shame  and  fear,  — 
Christ  is  risen  !  lose  your  sadness, 

Joying  with  the  joyous  throng: 
Faithful  hearts  will  find  their  gladness, 

Joining  in  the  Easter  song, 

Christ  is  risen  !  risen,  Brother  ! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 


SPRINGTIDE  BIRDS  ARE  SINGING. 

Christ  is  risen  !    Christ  the  Living, 
All  His  mourners'  tears  to  stay  ; 

Christ  is  risen  !  Christ,  forgiving, 

Wipes  the  stain  of   sin  away. 
Christ  is  risen  !   Christ  is  risen  ! 

Sin's  long  triumph  now  is  o'er  ; 

Christ  is  risen  !   Death's  dark  prison 

Holds  His  faithful  never  more. 

Christ  is  risen!  risen,  Brother! 
Brother,  Christ  is  risen  indeed  ! 


irom  tl)c  Catin. 


THIS  IS   THE   VERY  DAY  OF  GOD.       27 


ftljts  is  tj)c  Ferg  Qau  of  Goti. 

(Hie  est  Dies  verus  Dei.) 

By  St.  Ambrose,  born  probably  at  Treves,  about  340,  died  in  397. 
His  father  was  prefect  of  Gaul,  and  the  son  was  intended  for  a  secular 
career.  He  practised  as  an  advocate  at  Milan,  and  was  far  advanced  in 
civil  preferment  —  having  been  appointed  consular  prefect  of  Liguria  in 
370  —  when  he  was  suddenly  chosen  Bishop  of  Milan,  in  374,  by  an  im- 
pulsive and  unanimous  vote  of  the  people,  although  he  was  then  only  a 
layman,  and  unbaptized.  He  was  a  man  of  dauntless  courage,  and  his 
strong  and  austere  hymns  inspired  the  people  to  render  him  their  support 
in  his  defence  of  the  integrity  of  the  Creed,  and  the  spiritual  authority  of 
the  Church.  Many  hymns  have  been  ascribed  to  him  on  insufficient 
evidence:  the  authenticity  of  the  following  rests  on  the  excellent  authority 
of  F.  J.  Mone.     The  translation  is  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Charles. 

[HIS  is  the  very  day  of  God  : 
Serene  with  holy  light  it  came,  — 
In  which  the  stream  of  sacred  blood 
Swept  over  the  world's  crime  and  shame. 

Lost  souls  with  faith  once  more  it  filled, 
The  darkness  from  blind  eyes  dissolved  : 
Whose  load  of  fear  too  great  to  yield, 
Seeing  the  dying  thief  absolved? 


28         THIS  IS    THE    VERY  DAY  OF  GOD. 

Changing  the  cross  for  the  reward, 
That  moment's  faith  obtains  his  Lord  : 
Before  the  just  his  spirit  flies; 
The  first-fruits  enters  Paradise. 

The  angels  ponder,  wondering ; 
They  see  the  body's  pain  and  strife, 
They  see  to  Christ  the  guilty  cling, 
And  reap  at  once  the  blessed  life. 

O  admirable  Mystery  ! 

The  sins  of  all  are  laid  on  Thee  ; 

And  Thou,  to  cleanse  the  world's  deep  stain, 

As  man  dost  bear  the  sins  of  men. 

What  can  be  ever  more  sublime  ? 
That  grace  might  meet  the  guilt  of  time, 
Love  doth  the  bonds  of  fear  undo, 
And  death  restores  our  life  anew. 

Death's  fatal  spear  himself  doth  wound  ; 
With  his  own  fetters  he  is  bound. 
Lo  !  dead  the  Life  of  all  men  lies, 
That  life  anew  for  all  might  rise. 

That,  since  death  thus  hath  passed  on  all, 
The  dead  might  all  arise  again  ; 
By  his  own  death-blow  death  might  fall, 
And  o'er  his  unshared  fall  complain. 


i 


THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LAMB  TO  SHARE.   2<j 

iTlir  Supper  of  tlic  Lamb  to  Sfjare. 

{AJ  Catnam  Agni  providi.) 

An    oM    Paschal    Hymn,   pro*  the   early  Chtlicfa   bj 

newly-baptized  catechumen  lite,  they  for  the  first  time 

approached    the    Lord's    table.      Translated    by    Mr-.    <  harles.      Dr. 
N  -    high  banquet  we   await."     The 

date  ->f  the  hymn  is  uncertain;   but  it  U  one  of  the  most  ancient,  and  has 
been  by  some  ascribed  to  M.  An;: 

fHE  Supper  of  the  Lamb  to  share, 
We  come,  in  vesture  white  and  fair; 
The  Red  Sea  crossed,  our  hymn  we 
sing 
To  Christ,  our  Captain  and  our  King. 

His  holy  body  on  the  cross, 
Parched,  on  that  altar  hung  for  us  ; 
And,  drinking  of  His  crimson  blood, 
We  live  upon  the  living  God. 

Protected  in  the  Paschal  night 
From  the  destroying  angel's  might, 
And  by  a  powerful  hand  set  free 
From  Pharaoh's  bitter  slavery. 

For  Christ  our  Passover  is  slain, 
The  Lamb  is  offered  not  in  vain  ; 


30    THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  LAMB  TO  SHARE. 

With  truth's  sincere  unleavened  bread, 
His  flesh  He  gave,  His  blood  He  shed. 

0  Victim  !  worthy  Thou  forever, 
Who  didst  the  bands  of  hell  dissever ! 
Redeem  Thy  captives  from  the  foe, 
The  gift  of  life  afresh  bestow. 

When  Christ  from  out  the  tomb  arose, 
Victor  o'er  hell  and  all  His  foes, 
The  tyrant  forth  in  chains  He  drew, 
And  planted  Paradise  anew. 

Author  of  all,  to  Thee  we  pray, 
In  this  our  Easter  joy  to-day  : 
From  every  weapon  Death  can  wield, 
Thy  trusting  people  ever  shield ! 


WE  KEEP   THE  FESTIVAL. 


Zllc  Urrp  tfjc  JFrstifaal. 


./'  dopes.) 

From  the  Roman  Breviary,  altered  from  ihe  preoed  :ymn, 

ic  following  I  i .  I  »r. 

ontributed  to 

i  iff  s  "  Christ 

ted  at  the  University  of  New  York.  1S42;  and  was  ordained 
minister  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church.     He 

gue  of  the  late  Rev.  I  >r.   Bethune.     Another  1  I .  iward 

I   the  Lamb's  high  royal  feast."     The  spirited 
:>al  Hymnal,  beginning,  ,:  At  the  Lamb's  hij 
we  sing  altered  by  the  compilers  of  "Hymns  Ancient  and 

Modern,"  from  a  translation  by  Robert  Campbell  (1850).  The  hymn 
beginning,  "  Once  the  angel  started  back,"  in  the  Episcopal  Hymnal,  is 
a  part  of  a  translation  of  the  same  hymn,  by  John  Williams   (born  at 

•ant  Bishop  of  Connecticut,  103:- 
Bishop,  1865  to  the  present  time). 


E  keep  the  festival 
Of  the  slain  Lamb  our  King ; 
The  Red  Sea  passed, 


And  safe  at  last, 
Our  Leader's  praise  we  sing. 


His  love  ineffable 

He  pledged  in  precious  blood  ; 

And  Priest  most  high, 

The  altar  by, 
Himself  devoting,  stood. 


32  WE   KEEP    THE  FESTIVAL. 

The  sacred  crimson  sign 
The  avenging  angel  knew ; 
And  the  sea  fled 
Back  at  Christ's  tread, 
And  gave  a  pathway  through. 

Christ  is  our  Passover  ! 

And  we  will  keep  the  feast 
With  the  new  leaven, 
The  bread  of  Heaven  : 

All  welcome,  even  the  least ! 

O  Heavenly  Champion  ! 

Death  thought  to  vanquish  Thee  ! 

But  Death  is  slain  ; 

And  Thou  again 
Art  risen,  and  we  are  free. 

Hail,  mighty  Conqueror ! 
Under  Thy  glorious  feet 

The  tyrant  lies, 

And  gasps,  and  dies  : 
What  praise  for  Thee  is  meet  ? 

Forth  from  the  gloomy  prison 
Jesus,  we  follow  Thee, 

With  broken  chain, 

With  ended  pain, 
To  life  and  liberty ! 


LIGHT'S  GLITTERING  MORN.  33 

All  glory  be  to  Thee  ! 

All  worship  to  Thy  name  I 
Thee  we  adore, 
And  evermore 

Will  celebrate  thy  fame  ! 


ILtgljt's  Glittering  fHorn  Brtccfcs  tlje  8>fy. 

{Aurora  Iucis  rut  Hat.) 

Ascribed  to  St.  AMBROSE,  340-397.  The  following  version  is  given 
by  the  compilers  of  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  altered  from  Dr. 
's  translation.  Mrs.  Charles  has  written  a  somewhat  smoother  and 
freer  translation;  but  the  following  is  preferable,  because  of  its  close  ad- 
herence to  the  form  and  spirit  oi  the  original.  Mrs.  Charles's  version 
begins,  "  The  morning  kindles  all  the  sky." 

WIGHT'S  glittering  morn  bedecks  the 
sky, 
3H   Heaven  thunders  forth  its  victor-cry, 
The  glad  earth  shouts  her  triumph  high, 
And  groaning  hell  makes  wild  reply ; 

While  He,  the  King,  the  mighty  King, 
Despoiling  Death  of  all  its  sting, 
And  trampling  down  the  powers  of  night, 
Brings  forth  His  ransomed  saints  to  Light. 


34  LIGHT'S   GLITTERING  MORN 

His  Tomb  of  late  the  threefold  guard  . 
Of  watch  and  stone  and  seal  had  barred  ; 
But  now,  in  pomp  and  triumph  high, 
He  comes  from  death  to  Victory. 

The  pains  of  hell  are  loosed  at  last, 
The  clays  of  mourning  now  are  past  ; 
An  Angel  robed  in  light  hath  said, 
"The  Lord  is  risen  from  the  dead." 

The  Apostles'  hearts  were  full  of  pain 
For  their  dear  Lord  so  lately  slain, 
By  rebel  servants  doomed  to  die 
A  death  of  cruel  agony. 

With  gentle  voice  the  Angel  gave 
The  women  tidings  at  the  grave  : 
"  Fear  not,  your  Master  shall  ye  see  ; 
He  goes  before  to  Galilee." 

Then,  hastening  on  their  eager  way 
The  joyful  tidings  to  convey, 
Their  Lord  they  met,  their  living  Lord, 
And,  falling  at  His  feet,  adored. 

The  Eleven,  when  they  hear,  with  speed 
To  Galilee  forthwith  proceed, 


LIGHTS  GUTTERING  MORN.  35 

That  there  once  more  they  may  behold 
The  Lord's  dear  Face,  as  He  foretold. 

That  Easter-tide  with  joy  was  bright, 

The  sun  shone  out  with  fairer  light, 
When,  to  their  longing  eyes  restored, 

The  Apostles  saw  their  risen  Lord. 

He  bade  them  see  His  hands,  His  side, 
Where  yet  the  glorious  wounds  abide  ; 
O  tokens  true,  which  made  it  plain 
Their  Lord  indeed  was  risen  again  ! 

Jesu,  the  King  of  Gentleness, 
Do  Thou  Thyself  our  hearts  possess, 
That  we  may  give  Thee,  all  our  days, 
The  tribute  of  our  grateful  praise  ! 


36  HAIL,   DAY  OF  DAYS'. 

f&ail,  Eao  of  Sags !  Jfo  Prate  of  praise. 

{Salve ,  y&rto  Z>/>j,  fato  vencrabilis  <rvo.) 


By  Venantils  FORTUNATUS,  Bishop  of  Poictiers,  born  in  530,  died 
in  609.  His  poems  are  the  connecting  link  between  those  of  Sedulius  and 
Prudentius  and  those  of  the  middle  ages.  He  was  long  the  fashionable 
poet  of  his  day.  but  later  in  life  his  aspirations  and  his  verse  took  on  a 
holier  character,  and  he  wrote  some  beautiful  hymns.  The  following 
translation  by  W.  J.  C.  is  a  very  free  one,  in  a  different  measure  from 
that  of  the  original.  There  is  another  English  version  by  Mrs.  Charles; 
also  another  by  the  translator  of  the  following,  identical  as^  to  the  first 
stanza,  but  differing  widely  as  to  the  others. 


fggfjpj AIL,  Day  of  days!  in  peals  of  praise 
Throughout  all  ages  owned, 
When  Christ,  our  God,  hell's  empire 
trod, 
And  high  o'er  heaven  was  throned. 

This  glorious  morn  the  world  new-born 

In  rising  beauty  shows  : 
How,  with  her  Lord  to  life  restored, 

Her  gifts  and  graces  rose  ! 

The  spring  serene  in  sparkling  sheen 

The  flower-clad  earth  arrays  : 
Heaven's  portal  bright  its  radiant  light 

In  fuller  flood  displays. 


//.-///.,   DAY  OF  DA  YS!  ^ 

The  fiery  sim  in  loftier  noon 

r  heaven's  high  orbit  shines, 
As  o'er  the  tide  of  waters  wide 
1  le  rises  and  declines. 

From    hell's   deep   -loom,   from    earth's   dark 
tomb, 

The  Lord  in  triumph  soars: 
The  forests  raise  their  leafy  praise, 

The  flowery  field  adores. 

A-  star  by  star  He  mounts  afar, 

And  hell  imprisoned  lies, 
Let  stars  and  light  and  depth  and  height 

In  Hallelujahs  ri 

Lo  !  He  Who  died,  the  Crucified, 

God  over  all  He  reigns  ; 
On  Him  we  call,  His  creatures  all, 

Who  heaven  and  earth  sustains. 


38    THE  MORNING  PURPLES  ALL   THE  SKY. 


tCfjc  {Homing  ^urplrs  all  tfjc  Sfcg. 

{Aurora  cahim  purpurat.) 

An  ancient  Paschal  Hymn,  found  in  manuscripts  at  least  as  old  as  the 
beginning  of  the  ninth  century.  There  are  several  different  texts  in  the 
original.  The  translation  which  follows  is  by  Rev.  Dr.  A.  R.  Thompson 
of  New  York,  and  was  contributed  to  Dr.  SchafFs  "  Christ  in  Song." 
There  are  other  translations,  by  Rev.  J.  Chandler,  "This  Holy  Morn,  so 
fair  and  bright;  "  and  by  Caswall,  "  The  Dawn  was  purpling  over  the  Sky." 

[HE  morning  purples  all  the  sky, 
The  air  with  praises  rings  ; 
Defeated  hell  stands  sullen  by, 
The  world  exulting  sings  ; 
Glory  to  God !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 
For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

While  He,  the  King  all  strong  to  save, 

Rends  the  dark  doors  away, 
And  through  the  breaches  of  the  grave 

Strides  forth  into  the  day, 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 


THE  MORNING  PURPLES  ALL    THE  SKY.    39 

ive,  in  his  gloomy  prison 

Fast  fettered  He  has  Iain  ; 
But  he  has  mastered  Death,  has  risen, 

And  Death  wears  now  the  chain. 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 
For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

The  shining  angels  cry,  "Away 

With  grief !  no  spices  bring  ; 
Not  tears,  but  songs,  this  joyful  clay, 

Should  greet  the  rising  King  !  " 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 

That  Thou  our  Paschal  Lamb  mayst  be, 

And  endless  joy  begin, 
Jesus,  Deliverer,  set  us  free 

From  the  dread  death  of  sin. 
Glory  to  God  !  our  glad  lips  cry  : 

All  praise  and  worship  be 
On  earth,  in  heaven,  to  God  Most  High, 

For  Christ's  great  victory  ! 


40       O    THOU   WHO   ONCE  FROM  DEATH. 


©  Cfjou  SEfjo  once  from  ©cattj  otost  Eise. 

{A  morte  qui  Te  suscitans.) 

An  ancient  Compline  hymn,  translated  by  John  George  Smith. 

THOU  Who  once  from  death  didst 
rise, 

Effulgent  with  new  victories, 
Lighten  the  darkness  of  our  night, 
And  shield  us  with  Thy  gifts  of  might. 

Oh,  grant  that  when  our  limbs  shall  lie 
Wrapt  in  sleep's  needful  lethargy, 
Our  spirits  then,  from  fetters  free, 
May  upward  soar,  O  Lord,  to  Thee. 

And,  lest  the  fiery  darts  that  fly 
By  night  should  work  us  injury, 
With  Thy  right  hand  victorious  keep 
Watch  o'er  Thy  servants  while  they  sleep. 

And  when  the  cord  shall  be  unwound 
With  which  our  guilty  race  is  bound, 
Grant  that  we  be  not  crushed  beneath 
The  weight  of  everlasting  death. 


YE  CHOIRS  OF  NEW  JERUSALEM.       4 1 


ge  Ooirs  of  Xcto  Jerusalem. 

■\  rusalcm.) 

By    St,    FuLBBRT    OP    ChARTRES,    who   died   about    1029.       He   was 
■  man  of  very  wide  and  varied   attainments,  and   became   distinguished 

throughout  Frame  for  his  abilities  and  wisdom.  Hi^  advice  was  5 
by  kings  and  princes.  He  conducted  a  theological  college  at  Chartres, 
and  was  consecrated  bishop  of  that  diocese.  His  writings  which  remain 
consist  of  hymns,  letters,  sermons,  and  theological  treatises.  The  follow- 
rsion  is  taken  from  "Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  where  it  is 
altered  from  a  translation  by  an  unknown  writer.  There  is  another  trans- 
lation in  Dr.  Neale's  "  Mediaeval  Hymn 

E  choirs  of  New  Jerusalem, 

Your  sweetest  notes  employ, 
J  The  Paschal  victory  to  hymn 
In  strains  of  holy  joy. 

For  Juda's  Lion  bursts  His  chains, 

Crushing  the  serpent's  head  ; 
And  cries  aloud,  through  death's  domains, 

To  wake  the  imprisoned  dead. 

Devouring  depths  of  hell  their  prey 

At  His  command  restore  ; 
His  ransomed  hosts  pursue  their  way 

Where  Jesus  goes  before. 


42  PRAISE    TO    CHRIST. 

Triumphant  in   His  glory  now, 

To  Him  all  power  is  given  ; 
To  Him  in  one  Communion  bow 

All  saints  in  earth  and  heaven. 

While  we,  His  soldiers,  praise  our  King, 

His  mercy  we  implore, 
Within  His  Palace  bright  to  bring 

And  keep  us  evermore. 

All  glory  to  the  Father  be  ; 

All  glory  to  the  Son  ; 
All  glory,  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 

While  endless  ages  run. 

Alleluia !  Amen. 


praise  to  Christ  foit!)  Suppliant  Uotccg- 

{La tides  Christo  redempti  voce.) 
A  Prose  of  the  eleventh  century,  translated  by  Richard  Frederick 

LlTTLEDALE. 

RAISE    to    Christ,    with     suppliant 
voices, 
Let  His  ransomed  people  sing : 
Let  the  world  which  now  rejoices 
Bless  the  Son  of  God,  its  King. 


PRAISE    TO   CHRIST.  43 

Ye,  of  Heaven's  shrine  the  warders, 

Fellow-citizens  of  earth, 
Standing  in  your  ninefold  orders, 

Join  us  to  your  festal  mirth. 

Sing  aloud,  O  highest  regions! 

Lowest  deeps,  your  echoes  raise  ! 
To  the  Lord,  in  glad  allegiance, 

Let  all  spirits  give  their  praise. 
God,  as  Man  Himself  concealing, 

Born  in  flesh  to  save  mankind, 
Bearing  shame  for  sinners'  healing, 

Yet  as  God  in  wonders  shined. 

With  our  human  form  invested, 

Truly  Man,  He  dwelt  below, 
And  no  Godhead  manifested 

At  the  tempting  of  the  foe. 
Craft  with  wisdom  He  defeated, 

And  the  knots  of  sin  untied  ; 
On  the  Cross,  His  work  completed, 

There  for  us  a  Victim  died. 

To  His  Father  sacrificing, 

By  His  death  He  sin  hath  slain  : 

Xow,  with  noble  pomp  arising, 

From  the  depths  He  comes  again  ; 


44  PRAISE    TO    CHRIST. 

Comes  victorious  over  evil, 
Spoiling  hell  of  all  its  prey, 

Binding  in  His  chains  the  Devil, 
On  this  glad  triumphant  day,  — 

Day  which  brightest  radiance  giveth, 

Now  that  Egypt's  gloom  is  o'er 
When  He  rose,  Who  ever  liveth 

In  the  flesh  which  Mary  bore  : 
Christ,  Who  here  with  mortals  tarried, 

While  the  straying  sheep  He  sought, 
Which,  upon  his  shoulders  carried, 

To  the  Father  He  hath  brought. 


JESUX    THE   VERY  THOUGHT  OF  THEE.    45 

3rsu,  tfje  Trru  Cijougijt  of  (Tiicr. 

\Jcsu%  Dulcis  Monona.) 

By  Si  k,  bora  m  Fontaine,  Burgundy,  in  i 

died  in  1153.     He  has  been  called  the  \><  ^t  man  <>i  ! 

and  Luther  speaks  of  him  as  "  the  best   monk   that  ever   li\' 

the  son  lucated  at  the  University  of  Paris.     His 

early  inclined  him  to  a  monastic  life;  and,  after  three  years  spent 
in  the  Cistercian  monastery  of  Citeaux,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five 
appoint  1  new  monastery  at  Clairvaux.     This  position  he  re- 

tained till  his  death,  declining  repeated  offers  of  high  preferment.  He 
ften  appealed  to  for  counsel  by  kings  and  popes,  and  it  was  through 
his  persuasion  that  the  Kin^  of  Prance  undertook  the  crusade  of  1x46. 
The  following  i>  the  first  part  of  his  Jubilation  on  the  Name  of  Jesus,  a 
hymn  of  about  two  hundred  lines,  which  Dr.  Schaff  characterizes  as  the 
st  and  most  evangelical  of  the  mid  I  he  translation  is  by 

WALL*  There  are  translations  by  Xeale,  Mrs.  Charles,  and 
others;  but  Mr.  Caswall's  is  the  sweetest  and  smoothest  In  l)r.  Schaffs 
"Christ  in  Song,"  in  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  and  in  nearly  all 
hymn-l)ooks,  —  for  the  lines  have  found  their  way  into  universal  hymnol- 
■  >nly  the  first  four  or  five  verses  of  this  part  are  given.  The  last 
four  verses  entitle  it  to  a  place  with  Easter  poems,  and  are  quite  too  beau- 
tiful to  be  cast  aside.  The  quotation  is  taken  directly  from  Mr.  Cas- 
wall's volume  of  "Hymns  and  Poems,"  with  the  lines  which  have  been 
mutilated  or  marred  by  the  hymn-menders  restored. 

ESU,  the  very  thought  of  Thee 
With  sweetness  fills  my  breast  ; 
But  sweeter  far  Thy  face  to  see, 
And  in  Thy  presence  rest. 

Nor  voice  can  sing,  nor  heart  can  frame, 
Xor  can  the  memory  find, 


46   JESUt    THE    VERY  THOUGHT  OF  THEE. 

A  sweeter  sound  than  Thy  blest  name, 
O  Saviour  of  mankind  ! 


O  hope  of  every  contrite  heart ! 

O  joy  of  all, the  meek  ! 
To  those  who  fall,  how  kind  Thou  art ! 

How  good  to  those  who  seek  ! 

But  what  to  those  who  find  ?     Ah,  this 
Xor  tongue  nor  pen  can  show  : 

The  love  of  Jesus,  what  it  is, 
None  but  His  lovers  know. 

O  Jesu,  Light  of  all  below  ! 

Thou  Fount  of  life  and  fire  ! 
Surpassing  all  the  joys  we  know, 

And  all  we  can  desire  ! 

Thee  will  I  seek,  at  home,  abroad, 

Who  everywhere  art  nigh  ; 
Thee  in  my  bosom's  cell,  O  Lord, 

As  on  my  bed  I  lie. 

With  Mary  to  Thy  tomb  I'll  haste, 

Before  the  dawning  skies  ; 
And  all  around,  with  longing,  cast 

My  soul's  inquiring  eyes  ; 


77//-;  GATES  OF  DEATH  ARE  BROKEN.    4/ 

Beside  Thy  grave  will  make  my  moan, 

\wk\  sob  my  heart  away  ; 
Then  at  Thy  feet  sink  trembling  down, 

And  there  adoring  stay  ; 

Nor  from  my  tears  and  sighs  retrain, 

Nor  those  dear  feet  release, 
My  Jesu,  till  from  Thee  I  gain 

Some  blessed  word  of  peace  ! 


Ho,  tfje  &ates  of  ©rati)  are  Broken. 

[Mortis  port  is  fractis^  fort  is.) 

By  Peter  the  Venerable,  born  in  Auvergne,  in  1092  or  1094,  of  a 
noble  family;  died  in  1156.  He  was  elected  abbot  of  Clugny  in  1122, 
and  it  was  with  him  that  Abelard  found  shelter  after  the  condemnation  of 
his  errors.  He  was  a  contemporary  of  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  and  engaged 
in  a  keen  controversy  with  him  over  the  relative  merits  of  the  Clugniac 
and  Cistercian  monks.  He  gave  to  Christendom  its  first  accurate  trans- 
lation of  the  Koran,  and  he  wrote  a  refutation  of  Mahometanism.  The 
following  translation  is  by  Mrs.  Charles. 

[JO,  the  gates  of  death  are  broken, 
And    the    strong    man     armed     is 
spoiled,  — 
Of  his  armor,  which  he  trusted, 
By  the  Stronger  Arm  despoiled. 

Vanquished  is  the  prince  of  hell, 
Smitten  by  the  Cross  he  fell. 


48      THE  GA  TES  OF  DEA  TH  ARE  BROKEN. 

Then  the  purest  light  resplendent 

Shone  those  seats  of  darkness  through, 

When,  to  save  whom  he  created, 
God  willed  to  create  anew. 

That  the  sinner  might  not  perish, 

For  him  the  Creator  dies  ; 
By  Whose  death  our  dark  lot  changing, 

Life  again  for  us  doth  rise. 

Satan  groaned,  defeated  then, 

When  the  Victor  ransomed  men ; 

Fatal  was  to  him  the  strife, 

Unto  man  the  source  of  life ; 

Captured  as  he  seized  his  prey, 
He  is  slain  as  he  would  slay. 

Thus  the  King  all  hell  hath  vanquished 

Gloriously  and  mightily  ; 
On  the  first  day  leaving  Hades, 

Victor  He  returns  on  high. 

Thus  God  brought  man  back  to  heaven, 
When  He  rose  from  out  the  grave, 

The  pure  primal  life  bestowing, 
Which  creating  first  He  gave. 

By  the  sufferings  of  his  Maker, 

To  his  perfect  Paradise 
The  first  dweller  thus  returneth, 

Wherefore  these  dad  sons;s  arise. 


THE  WORLD'S  FRESH  DAWN  OF  BIRTH.  49 


Xoto  tijf  RlorlVs  jFrrslj  Dafon  of  Btrtli. 

[Mundi  Renava  tio. ) 

])\    \  S       V  Neale  and  Trench  agree  in  n  : 

►f  mediaeval  poets.     H<    a  is  born  in  Brittany,— in 

what   year  is    uncertain,  —  and  died  about   the  year   1192.       He  was  the 

author  of  more  than  a  hundred  sequences,  which  were  i  pub- 

lished by  M.  Gautier  in  1858.     Hi>>  hymns  are  full  of  I  t  allu- 

-  types   to  illustrate   N-  1  nt  truths;    and  the 

'■en  predominates  over  the  devotional  interest.     But  his 
rich  melody,  and  an  exquisite  art  and  variety,  and  abounds  in  deep 
and  tender  feeling.     The  following  fine  translation  is  by  P.  S.  WbsSLEY. 


m 


OW  the  world's  fresh  dawn  of  birth 
Teems  with  new  rejoicings  rife  : 
Christ  is  rising,  and  on  earth 


All  things  with  Him  rise  to  life. 
Feeling  this  memorial  day, 
Him  the  elements  obey, 

Serve,  and  lay  aside  their  strife. 

Gleamy  fire  flits  to  and  fro, 
Throbs  the  everlasting  air, 

Water  without  pause  doth  flow, 

And  the  earth  stands  firm  and  fair; 

Light  creations  upward  leap, 

Heavier  to  the  centre  keep, 
All  things  renovation  share. 


50    THE  WORLD'S  FRESH  DA  WN  OF  BIRTH. 

Clearer  are  the  skies  above, 
And  more  quiet  is  the  sea  ; 

Each  low  wind  is  full  of  love, 
Our  own  vale  is  blooming  free  ; 

Dryness  flushing  into  green, 

Warm  delight  where  frost  hath  been, 
For  spring  cometh  tenderly. 

Melted  is  the  ice  of  death, 

And  the  world's  prince  driven  away  ; 
From  amidst  us  vanisheth 

All  his  old  tyrannic  sway. 
He,  who  sought  to  clasp  more  tight 
That  wherein  he  held  no  right, 

Fails  of  his  peculiar  prey. 

Life  is  vanquisher  of  Death, 
And  the  joy  man  lost  of  old, 

That  he  now  recovereth, 
Even  Paradise  to  hold. 

For  the  cherub  keeping  ward, 

By  the  promise  of  the  Lord, 

Turns  the  many-flaming  sword, 
And  the  willing;  gates  unfold. 


WELCOME    THE    TRIUMPHAL    TOKEN.     51 


■    BHelcome  tljr  tTriumpfjal  Soften. 

(ffctc  est  Dies  Triumphalis.) 

By  \:  iam  of  St  Victor.    Translated  by  P.  S.  W<  ■  •  note 

to  the  preceding  hymn.) 


jELCOME  the  triumphal  token, — 
Day  to  ruined  world  how  sweet, 
When  thefoeman's  power  was  broken, 
And  our  ills  found  comfort  meet ! 
Know  ye  not  this  day  so  splendid, 

Shining  with  so  fair  a  crown, 
Witnessed  Sin's  dominion  ended, 
And  the  Evil  One  cast  down  ? 

Then,  the  Prince  of  Darkness  flying, 

Every  baneful  charm  did  cease  ; 
Health  came  to  the  sick  and  dying, 

Rose  on  earth  the  reign  of  peace ; 
Death  the  sting  of  death  undoing, 

Hope  of  life  returned  to-day  ; 
Sin's  stronghold  was  hurled  to  ruin, 

And  pollution  chased  away. 

Since,  then,  Christ  our  souls  hath  cherished 
In  a  union  such  as  this, 


52   HAIL    THE  MUCH-REMEMBERED  DAY! 

And  on  earth  hath  freely  perished 

*  For  the  things  we  wrought  amiss, 
Lightly  may  we  hymn  His  story, 

And  our  Paschal  banquet  spread  ; 
Heart,  word,  work,  proclaim  His  glory, 

Rising  with  Him  from  the  dead. 


Sail  tfjre  JHurfj^ememfaretr  IBagt 

(Ecce  Dies  Celebris  !) 
By  Adam  of  St.  Victor.     Translated  by  Rev.  J.  M.  Neale,  D.D. 


AIL  the  much-remembered  Day  ! 
Night  from  morning  flies  away ; 
Life    the    chains    of    Death    hath 
burst : 
Gladness,  welcome  !  Grief,  begone  ! 
Greater  glory  draweth  on 

Than  confusion  at  the  first. 
Flies  the  shadowy  from  the  true : 
Flies  the  ancient  from  the  new : 
Comfort  hath  each  tear  dispersed. 

Hail,  our  Pascha,  that  wast  dead ! 
What  preceded  in  the  Head, 

That  each  member  hopes  to  gain ; 


HAIL    Tin-:  MUCH-REMEMBERED  DAY!   53 

Christ,  our  newer  Pascha  now, 
Late*  in  death  content  to  how, 

When  the  spotless  Lamb  was  slain. 

From  the  Cross's  pole  of  glory 
Flows  the  must  of  ancient  story 

In  the  Church's  wine-vat  stored  : 
From  the  press,  now  trodden  duly, 
Gentile  first-fruits  gathered  newly 

Brink  the  precious  liquor  poured. 

Sackcloth,  worn  with  foul  abuses, 
Passes  on  to  royal  uses ; 
Grace  in  that  garb  at  length  we  see, 
The  Flesh  hath  conquered  misery. 
They,  by  whom  their  monarch  perished, 
Lost  the  kingdom  that  they  cherished  ; 
And,  for  a  sign  and  wonder,  Cain 
Is  set,  who  never  shall  be  slain. 

Reprobated  and  rejected 

Was  this  Stone,  that,  now  elected, 

For  a  Trophy  stands  erected, 

And  a  precious  Corner-stone  : 
Sin's,  not  Nature's,  termination, 
He  creates  a  new  creation, 
And,  Himself  their  colligation, 

Binds  two  peoples  into  one. 


54       THE   DAY   THE   LORD   HATH  MADE. 

Give  we  glory  to  the  Head, 
O'er  the  members  love  be  shed ! 


Bdjoltr  tfjc  Dag  tfje  Eorti  fjatfj  malic! 

(Salve,  Dies  Die  rum   Gloria.) 

By  Adam  of  St.  Victor.     Translated  by  H.  R.  B.,  in  Rev.  Orby 
Shipley's  "  Lyra  Messianica." 

gjEHOLD  the  Day  the  Lord  hath  made ! 
That  peerless  day  which  cannot  fade  ; 
That  day  of  light,  that  day  of  joy, 
Of  glory  which  shall  never  cloy. 

The  day  on  which  the  world  was  framed 
Has  signal  honor  ever  claimed  ; 
But  Christ,  arising  from  the  dead, 
Unrivalled  brightness  o'er  it  shed. 

In  hope  of  their  celestial  choice, 
Now  let  the  sons  of  light  rejoice  : 
Christ's  members  in  their  lives  declare 
What  likeness  to  their  Head  they  bear. 

For  solemn  is  our  feast  to-day, 
And  solemn  are  the  vows  we  pay  : 


THE  DAY   THE  LORD   HATH  MADE.      55 

This  day's  surpassing  greatness  claims 
Surpassing  joy,  surpassing  aims. 

The  Paschal  victory  displays 
The  glory  of  our  festal  days  ; 
Which  type  and  shadow  dimly  bore, 
In  promise  to  the  saints  of  yore. 

The  veil  is  rent  ;  and  lo  !  unfold 
The  things  the  ancient  Law  foretold  : 
The  figure  from  the  substance  flies, 
And  light  the  shadow's  place  supplies. 

The  type  the  spotless  Lamb  conveyed, 
The  goat,  where  Israel's  sins  were  laid  ; 
Messiah,  purging  our  offence, 
Disclosed  in  all  their  hidden  sense. 

By  freely  yielding  up  His  breath, 
He  freed  us  from  the  bonds  of  death  ; 
Who  on  that  Prey  forbidden  flew, 
And  lost  the  prey  that  was  his  due. 

The  ills  on  sinful  flesh  that  lay 
His  sinless  flesh  hath  done  away, 
Which,  blooming  fresh  on  that  third  morn, 
Assurance  gave  to  souls  forlorn. 


56       CHRIST,    UPON  THE  FRIDAY  SLAIN. 

O  wondrous  Death  of  Christ  !  may  we 
Be  made  to  live  to  Christ  by  Thee  ! 
O  deathless  Death,  destroy  our  sin, 
Give  us  the  prize  of  life  to  win  ! 


Cfjrist,  upon  tfye  jFrtoag  Slain. 

(Sexta  passus  feria.) 


By  Adam  of  St.  Victor.  Translated  by  Richard  Frederic  Little- 
dale,  D.C.L.  See  the  biographical  notice  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  Our 
Paschal  Joy  at  last  is  here." 


jlHRIST,  upon  the  Friday  slain, 
[When  three  days  were  past  again, 
Rose  victorious, 
And,  triumphant  o'er  the  Tomb, 
Lifts  His  loved  ones  out  of  gloom, 
Makes  them  glorious. 

For  the  people  of  His  Name, 
He,  upon  the  cross  of  shame, 

Dead  was  lying : 
In  the  grave  a  while  He  lay, 
Then,  at  dawning  of  the  day, 

Rose  undying. 


CHRIST,    UPON   THE  FRIDAY  SLAIN.       S7 

In  I  lis  passion  and  I  lis  cr< 
With  a  bulwark  sure  from  l< 

We  arc  gifted  : 
By  His  resurrection  bright, 
From  the  grave  of  sin  and  night 

We  are  lifted. 

Offered  up  for  sinners,  Christ 
As  their  sacrifice  sufficed 

Unrepeated  : 
By  the  precious  blood  He  spilt, 
Jesus  washed  our  souls  from  guilt, 

Hell  defeated. 

Once  He  lay  within  the  grave, 
Lest  the  race  He  came  to  save 

Twice  should  perish  : 
Now  He  opens  Heaven  wide, 
Comes  to  every  mourner's  side,  — 

Comes  to  cherish. 

He  the  Lion,  strong  in  fight, 
Rising  up  to-day.  His  might 

Forth  is  telling  ; 
With  the  arms  of  righteousness, 
Satan,  Prince  of  wickedness, 

Ever  quelling. 


5 8       CHRIST,    UPON   THE  FRIDAY  SLAIN. 

Now  is  come  the  Lord's  own  day, 
Whereon  He  hath  washed  away 

Earth's  pollution  ; 
Whereon  death  was  slain  in  strife, 
And  the  foe  hath  made  of  life 

Restitution. 

So,  from  hearts  made  pure  from  stain, 
Now  the  Alleluia  strain 

Doubly  pealeth  : 
Now  all  evil  hath  its  close, 
And  the  life  which  Heaven  knows 

God  revealeth. 

In  the  world's  late  eventide, 
Raise  Thou  up  Thy  servants  tried, 

Jesu  Holy  : 
May  this  glad  and  festal  day 
Thy  salvation  bring  for  aye 

To  the  lowly ! 


PURGE  WE  OUT  THE  ANCIENT  LEAVEN.   59 

Purge  for  out  tlje  ancient  Leaoen. 

(Zv/// <i  Vitus  expurgitur.) 

By   \  I  ranslaled  by  Rj:v.  J.  M.  Ni-.ai.f-.,  I). I). 

The  original  contains  thirteen  stanzas,  of  «rhi  >nly  the  first 

three  and  the  Li>t  two,  —  the   remainder  of  the  sequence  being  taken   up 
with  a  somewhat  subtle  application  of  Old-Testament  : 

|URGE  wo  out  the  ancient  leaven, 
That  the  feast  of  earth  and  heaven 
We  may  celebrate  aright. 
On  to-day  our  hope  stands  founded  : 
Moses  teacheth  how  unbounded 
Is  its  virtue  and  its  might 

This  day  Egypt's  treasure  spoiled, 
And  the  Hebrews  freed,  that  toiled, 

Pressed  with  bondage  and  in  chains, 
From  the  mortar,  brick,  and  stubble  : 
Heaviest  toil  and  sorest  trouble 

Had  they  known  in  Zoan's  plains. 

Xow  the  voice  of  exultation, 
Now  the  triumph  of  salvation, 

Free  and  wide  its  tidings  flings. 
This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ;  the  day 
That  bids  our  sin  and  sorrow  flee  away  ; 
Life  and  light  and  health  that  brines. 


60   PURGE  WE  OUT  THE  ANCIENT  LEAVEN. 

Death  and  life  have  striven  newly  : 
Jesus  Christ  hath  risen  truly ; 
And  with  Christ  ascended  duly, 

Many  a  witness  that  He  lives  : 
Dawn  of  newness,  happy  morrow, 
Wipes  away  our  eve  of  sorrow  : 
Since  from  death  our  life  we  borrow, 

Brightest  joy  the  season  gives. 

Jesu,  Victor,  Life,  and  Head ; 
Jesu,  Way  Thy  people  tread ; 
By  Thy  death  from  death  released, 
Call  us  to  the  Paschal  Feast, 

That  with  boldness  we  may  come  : 
Living  Water,  Bread  undying, 
Vine,  each  branch  with  life  supplying, 
Thou  must  cleanse  us,  Thou  must  feed  us, 
From  the  second  death  must  lead  us 

Upward  to  our  heavenly  home  ! 


STIIJ.    THY  SORROW,   MAGDALENAl      6l 

Still  tlju  Sorrofo,  fHagtialcna ! 

{Pone  I  net  inn,  MagdQlena  '.) 

A  sweet  and  jubilant  hymn,  of  uncertain  date  and  authorship.      In 
"  Lyra  Messianica,"  and  in  Dr.  S  '  the  name  of 

the  author  is  not  given;  and  by  Mrs.  Charles  it  is  ascribed  to  Adam  of  St. 
"  Voice  of  Christian  Life  in  Song,"  p.  182).     'Die  original  may 

be  found  in  Trench's  "Sacred  Latin  Poetry,"  p.  159.  There  are  severed 
translations,  by  Mrs.  Charles,  \V.  J.  C,  and  others;    but  the  following 

—  contributed  by  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  A.  Washburn  to  "  Christ  in  - 

—  is  much  the  best.  Dr.  Washburn  was  born  at  Boston,  April  16,  1819  ; 
graduated    at    Harvard   University    1838;    studied    theology   at   A 

and  New  Haven:  was  rector  of  St.  Paul's  Episcopal  Church,  Newbury- 
port,  1344-51;  rector  of  St.  John's,  Hartford,  1853-62,  and  professor  of 
church  polity  in  Berkeley  Divinity  School,  Middle-town;  rector  of  St. 
M  irk's,  Philadelphia,  1862-65;  from  1865  to  date,  rector  of  Calvary 
Church,  New  York. 

"TILL  thy  sorrow,  Magdalena! 
Wipe  the  teardrops  from  thine 
eyes  : 

Not  at  Simon's  board  thou  kneelest, 
Pouring  thy  repentant  sighs  : 
All  with  thy  glad  heart  rejoices  ; 
All  things  sing,  with  happy  voices, 

Hallelujah  ! 

Laugh  with  rapture,  Magdalena ! 

Be  thy  drooping  forehead  bright: 
Banished  now  is  every  anguish, 

Breaks  anew  thy  morning  light : 


62      STILL    THY  SORROW,   MAGDALENA  ! 

Christ  from  death  the  world  hath  freed ; 
He  is  risen,  is  risen  indeed  : 
Hallelujah! 

Joy  !  exult,  O  Magdalena ! 

He  hath  burst  the  rocky  prison  : 
Ended  are  the  days  of  darkness : 

Conqueror  hath  He  arisen. 
Mourn  no  more  the  Christ  departed ; 
Run  to  welcome  Him,  glad-hearted : 
Hallelujah! 

Lift  thine  eyes,  O  Magdalena ! 

See  !  thy  living  Master  stands  ; 
See  His  face,  as  ever,  smiling ; 

See  those  wounds  upon  His  hands, 
On  His  feet,  His  sacred  side, — 
Gems  that  deck  the  Glorified  : 
Hallelujah! 

Live,  now  live,  O  Magdalena ! 

Shining  is  thy  new-born  day  ; 
Let  thy  bosom  pant  with  pleasure, 

Death's  poor  terror  flee  away  ; 
Far  from  thee  the  tears  of  sadness  : 
Welcome  love,  and  welcome  gladness ! 
Hallelujah! 


."  THY  GENTLE  LAMB,   (>  SI0N1     63 


Noto  <TI)u  Gentle  Lamfr,  ©  Sion! 

(Mitis  AgnuSy  Leo  Forth.) 

A  hymn  of  uncertain  date,  translated  by  Henkv  TrkMD,  D.D. 

[Ff^fSfOW  thy  gentle  Lamb,  O  Sion, 
farV'ri   Shows  the  strength  of  Judah's  Lion  ; 
BUSS       Hell's  stern  fetters  hold  him  not : 
Dawns  the  third  day  o'er  His  prison, 
And  our  mighty  Saviour,  risen, 

Makes  us  share  His  glorious  lot. 

Holy  women,  with  devotion 

Such  as  springs  from  love's  emotion, 

Bring  sweet  unguents  to  His  tomb  : 
There,  O  wonderful  transition  ! 
Worthy  of  the  heavenly  vision, 

Glory  meets  them  in  the  gloom. 

One  in  faith  that  scorns  defection, 
Equal  in  their  warm  affection 

For  His  Name  Whose  grave  they  seek, 
Back  they  see  the  stone  is  taken, 
And  the  opened  tomb  forsaken, 

Whence  they  hear  an  Angel  speak  :  — 


64     JOY!   O  JOY!    YE  BROKEN-HEARTED \ 

Fear  not,  loving  souls  ;  but  going 
Quickly  back,  the  vision  showing, 

Say  to  Peter  and  the  rest, 
Jesus  lives,  o'er  death  victorious, 
Now  to  reign  forever  glorious, 

In  the  regions  of  the  blest ! 


3og!  ©  Sog!  ffe  BrotaJ)cartcti ! 

(Cedant  justi  signa  hcctus.) 

An  ancient  hymn,  of  uncertain  date  and  authorship;  translated  by 
Herbert  Kynaston,  D.D.  Dr.  Kynaston  was  born  at  Warwick,  Nov. 
23,  1809;  was  educated  at  Westminster  and  Oxford;  became  tutor,  philo- 
logical lecturer,  and  master  of  the  schools;  was  ordained  in  1834;  became 
curate  of  Culham;  held  successively  the  livings  of  St.  Botolph,  Aldgate, 
and  of  St.  Nicholas  Cole  Abbey,  London;  and,  in  1853,  was  appointed  a 
prebend  of  St.  Paul's.  He  is  the  author  of  a  hundred  o-  more  original 
hymns  and  translations. 

jlOY  !  O  joy  !  ye  broken-hearted  ! 
Joy  !  the  dreadful  sea  is  parted  : 
Here  and  there  the  ramping  wave 
Frowns  beside  an  empty  grave. 
With  His  blood  the  Lamb  hath  laved  us, 
With  His  passing  Christ  has  saved  us, 
Shouting,  on  the  Red-sea  shore, 
Alleluia !  evermore. 


JOY!   0  JOY!    YE   BROKEN-HEARTED  I    65 

Loud  above  the  billows1  thunder 
Sound  the  chains  He  rives  asunder: 

Saints  below,  of  ancient  days, 

Glisten  with  His  rising  rays  : 

Saints  who  died  before  they  saw  Him, 

Yearn  to  rise  on  earth  before  Him  ; 

Yearn  to  take  the  form  He  wore: 
Alleluia  !  evermore. 

All  our  marbled  slumber  breaking, 
From  our  sinful  dreams  awaking, 

From  our  worldly  cerements  free, 

Jesus,  make  us  rise  with  Thee! 
Thee,  our  death,  hell's  portals  rending, 
Thee,  our  life,  to  God  ascending, 

All  our  blessings  to  restore, 

Alleluia  !  evermore. 


66  ALLELUIA!  ALLELUIA! 


alleluia!   alleluia! 

{Alleluia!  Alleluia!     Finita jam  sunt pralia.) 

A  spirited  hymn,  the  author  of  which  is  unknown.  By  H.  A.  Daniel, 
in  his  "  Thesaurus  Hymnologicus,"  it  is  referred  to  the  twelfth  century; 
by  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale,  who  translates  it,  to  the  thirteenth.  A  less-spirited 
version,  by  Rev.  Francis  Pott,  may  be  found  in  "  Hymns  Ancient  and 
Modern." 

LLELUIA!     Alleluia! 
Finished  is  the  battle  now, 
The  crown  is  on  the  Victor's  brow. 
Hence  with  sadness ! 
Sing  with  gladness, 

Alleluia ! 

Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 
After  sharp  death  that  Him  befell, 
Jesus  Christ  hath  harrowed  hell ! 

Earth  is  singing, 

Heaven  is  ringing, 

Alleluia ! 

Alleluia !     Alleluia ! 
On  the  third  morning  He  arose, 
Bright  with  victory  o'er  His  foes. 

Sing  we  lauding, 

And  applauding, 

Alleluia! 


CHRIST  THE  LORD   IS  RISEN   TO-DAY.    67 

Alleluia!     Alleluia! 
He  bath  closed  hell's  brazen  door, 
And  heaven  is  open  evermore  ! 

I  [ence  with  sadness  ! 

Sing  with  gladm 

Alleluia  ! 

Alleluia  !     Alleluia  ! 
Lord,  by  Thy  wounds  we  call  on  Thee, 
So  from  ill  death  to  set  us  frc 

That  our  living 

Be  thanksgiving. 

Alleluia  ! 


(Tlirist  tlje  loth  is  Efeen  JCo^ag. 

(  Victims  Paschal i  ion 

An  anonymous  hymn,  based  upon  a  Latin  Sequence  of  the  twelfth  or 
thirteenth  century.  From  Archbishop  Manning's  Collection  for  the  use 
of  St   Mary  of  the  Angels  Church,  Bayswater. 

HRIST  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day; 

Christians,  haste  your  vows  to  pay  ; 

Offer  ye  your  praises  meet 
At  the  Paschal  Victim's  feet 
For  the  sheep  the  Lamb  hath  bled, 
Sinless  in  the  sinner's  stead  : 


68     CHRIST  THE  LORD   IS  RISEN  TO-DAY. 

"  Christ  is  risen,"  to-day  we  cry  ; 
Now  He  lives,  no  more  to  die. 

Christ,  the  Victim  undefined, 
Man  to  God  hath  reconciled  ; 
Whilst  in  strange  and  awful  strife 
Met  together  Death  and  Life  ; 
Christians,  on  this  happy  day, 
Haste  with  joy  your  vows  to  pay ; 
"  Christ  is  risen,"  to-day  we  cry, 
Now  He  lives,  no  more  to  die. 

Christ,  Who  once  for  sinners  bled, 
Now  the  First-born  from  the  dead, 
Throned  in  endless  might  and  power, 
Lives  and  reigns  for  evermore. 
Hail,  eternal  Hope  on  high  ! 
Hail,  Thou  King  of  victory ! 
Hail,  Thou  Prince  of  Life  adored  ! 
Help  and  save  us,  gracious  Lord ! 


FORTH   TO    THE  PASCHAL    VICTIM.      69 


JFortfj  to  tfje  IDascijal  Fictim,  Christians, 
bring* 

( Victima  Paschali  laudes.) 

A  more  literal  translation  of  the  same  Sequence,  by  Edward  Caswa&l. 


|ORTH   to  the  Paschal  Victim,  Chris- 
tians,  bring 

J     Your  sacrifice  of  praise. 


The  Lamb  redeems  the  sheep  ; 
And  Christ,  the  Sinless  One, 
Hath  to  the  Father  sinners  reconciled. 

Together  Death  and  Life 
In  a  strange  conflict  strove  ; 
The  Prince  of  Life,  who  died, 

Now  lives  and  reigns. 

What  thou  sawest,  Mary,  say, 
As  thou  wentest  on  the  way. 

I  saw  the  tomb  wherein  the  Living  One  had 

lain  ; 
I  saw  His  glory  as  He  rose  again  ; 
Napkin  and  linen  clothes,  and  Angels  twain  ; 


70  SPRING  IS  IN  ITS  BEAUTY  GLOWING. 

Yea,  Christ  is  risen,  my  hope,  and  He 
Will  go  before  you  into  Galilee. 

We  know  that  Christ  indeed  has  risen  from 
the  grave  : 
Hail,  thou  King  of  victory  ! 
Have  mercy,  Lord,  and  save. 


Spring  is  in  its  Beatttg  fllofotng* 

{Ecce  tempus  est  vernal e.) 

Translated  from  a  Sequence  of  the  thirteenth  century  by  Henry  Trend, 
D.D.  See  the  biographical  notice  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  Hail,  Day  of 
Joyous  Rest !  " 

fPRIXG  is  in  its  beauty  glowing, 
When  the  tree  unique  in  growing, 
Through     the    world     its    branches 
throwing, 
Bears  our  wondrous  Ransom,  showing 
Man  o'er  death  victorious. 

Urged  by  Jews  of  cruel  feeling, 
Men  His  mystic  fruit  are  peeling ; 
O'er  the  cross  His  blood  is  stealing; 
Heaven  grows  dark,  the  earth  is  reeling, 
At  this  deed  notorious, 


SPRING  IS  IN  ITS  BEAUTY  GLOWING.   7 1 

Charged  with  blasphemy  and  treason, 
Sec  Him  scourged,  and  suffering  lesion 
From  the  crown  of  thorns'  adhesion, 
Tasting  gall,  and  without  reason 

Bearing  scoffs  opprobrious. 

But  while  frantic  Jews  are  crying, 
Lead  Him  off  for  crucifying"! 
While  in  torments  He  is  dying, 
To  our  race  in  misery  lying- 
Comes  salvation  glorious. 

Saints  of  God,  from  your  dejection 
Rise  in  faith  and  strong  affection  ; 
Give  your  hearts  to  joy's  direction  ; 
Lo !  the  day  of  resurrection 

Dawns  in  brightness  o'er  us  ! 


J 2  YE  SONS  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  KING. 


Ifr  Sons  antr  ©aucfttcrs  of  tije  MiriQ. 


(O  Filii  et  FUuz 


An  anonymous  hymn  from  the  Latin  of  the  thirteenth  century,  trans- 
lated by  Dr.  Neale.  The  compilers  of  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern  " 
have  altered  and  condensed  Dr.  Neale's  version,  giving  it  somewhat  more 
of  smoothness  at  the  cost  of  strength  and  simplicity.  Casvvall  has  a 
translation,  beginning,  "  Ye  Sons  and  Daughters  of  the  Lord." 


E  sons  and  daughters  of  the  King, 
Whom  heavenly  hosts  in  glory  sing, 
To-day  the  grave  hath  lost  its  sting ! 
Alleluia. 


On  that  first  morning  of  the  week, 
Before  the  day  began  to  break, 
They  went  their  buried  Lord  to  seek. 
Alleluia. 

Both  Mary,  as  it  came  to  pass, 
And  Mary  Magdalene  it  was, 
And  Mary,  wife  of  Cleopas. 
Alleluia. 


An  Angel  clad  in  white  was  he 
That  sate  and  spake  unto  the  three, 
"  Ycur  Lord  is  gone  to  Galilee  !  " 
Alleluia. 


v.v  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  KING.  73 

When  John  the  Apostle  heard  the  fame, 
He  to  the  tomb  with  Peter  came  ; 
But  in  the  way  outran  the  same. 
Alleluia. 

That  night  the  Apostles  met  in  fear: 
Amidst  them  came  their  Lord  most  dear, 
And  said,  l4  Peace  be  unto  all  here  !  " 
Alleluia. 

When  Didymus  had  after  heard 
That  Jesus  had  fulfilled  His  word, 
He  doubted  if  it  were  the  Lord. 

Alleluia. 

"Thomas,  behold  My  side,"  saith  He; 

"  My  hands,  my  feet,  my  body,  see  : 

And  doubt  not,  but  believe  in  Me." 
Alleluia. 

No  longer  Didymus  denied  : 
He  saw  the  hands,  the  feet,  the  side: 
"  Thou  art  my  Lord  and  God  ! "  he  cried. 
Alleluia. 

Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen, 
And  yet  whose  faith  hath  constant  been  : 
In  life  eternal  they  shall  reign. 
Alleluia. 


74  SAINTS  ON  EARTH,  AND  SAINTS  IN  TIGHT 

On  this  most  holy  Day  of  days 
Be  laud  and  jubilee  and  praise  : 
To  God  both  hearts  and  voices  raise. 
Alleluia. 

And  we  with  Holy  Church  unite, 
As  is  both  meet  and  just  and  right, 
In  Glory  to  the  King  of  Light. 
Alleluia. 


Saints  on  iSartf),  anU  Saints  in  ILigfjt 

\Cceli  choris  perennibus.) 

A  hymn  for  Lauds,  translated  by  Rev.  Phipps  Onslow,  and  con- 
tributed to  "  Lyra  Messianica."  Mr.  Onslow  was  born  about  1824,  and 
graduated  at  Oxford  in  1846.  He  was  ordained  in  1847,  served  as  curate 
of  Longdon  from  1847  to  1859,  and  has  been  rector  of  Upper  Sapey, 
Herefordshire,  since  the  latter  date. 


pAINTS  on  earth,  and  saints  in  light, 
In  your  songs  of  praise  unite  ; 
Praise  to  Christ,  the  Heavenly  King, 


O'er  death's  bondage  triumphing. 

Flesh  and  soul  death's  law  divides, 
Still  the  Word  with  each  abides  ; 
Flesh  and  soul  death  rends  in  twain, 
He  reknits  their  life  again. 


WORDS  MAY  ATOT  THY  GLORY   TELL.     7S 

Whom  the  Virgin's  womb  revealed,  — 

Womb  of  Virgin  ne'er  unsealed, — 
From  the  sealed  cave  outbroke, 

In  death's  womb  to  life  awoke. 

Love,  the  sweetest  known  on  high, 

Sternly,  Jesu,  bade  Thee  die  ; 
Love,  the  Priest,  Thy  bitter  death 
To  the  Father  offereth. 

Jesu,  risen  Saviour,  give 
Grace  Thy  risen  life  to  live, — 
Grace,  from  sin's  dark  fetters  free, 
Works  of  love  to  offer  Thee. 


£Hortis  marj  not  Zty  Glory  tell. 

{Tc  quanta    Victor  funcris.) 
A  vesper  hymn,  translated  by  W.  H.  D.f  in  "  Lyra  Messianica." 

^URDS  may  not  Thy  glory  tell, 
Conqueror  of  death  and  hell, 
Whom  the  Cross  but  lately  bore, 

Now  alive  for  evermore. 

Marred  by  cruel  blows  wast  Thou  : 

Stars  have  no  such  glory  now. 


/ 


6      WORDS  MAY  XOT  THY  GLORY   TELL. 

Though  untouched  by  any  need, 
Still  with  men  Thou  deign'st  to  feed. 
Needs  no  more  the  uttered  word  : 
Wind  and  wave  no  less  have  heard, 
Own  their  Lord,  and  pathway  meet 
Spread  before  His  passing  feet. 
Fleshly  fetters  now  forgot, 
Doors  of  brass  may  stay  Thee  not ; 
Other,  yet  the  same  —  but  free 
To  come  and  go  as  liketh  Thee. 
Lord  !  our  hope  Thou  biddest  rise, 
Grasping  life  beyond  the  skies, 
Where  Thy  glory  we  shall  view, 
In  Thine  imasre  clothed  anew. 


JESL'S  II ATI  I  VANISHED:  ALL  IX  VAIN.  77 

3csus  ijatf)  Famsljcti  s  all  in  Tain. 

[Erumpc  tandem  juste  dolor.) 

This  quaint  and  beautiful  piece  appears  among  the  translations 
ward  GASWALL,  without  any  intimation  as   to  the  authorship  or 
the  original.     Mr.  Caswall,  to  whom  we  owe  some  of  the  finest  translations 
that  we  have  from  the  Latin  sacred  poets,  was  born  in   1S14,  at  Vateiy,  in 
Hampshire,  England.     He  graduated  at  Oxford  in   1836,  and  « 
dained  priest  in  1839.     In  1847  he  joined  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  three 
years  later  was  admitted  into  the  Congregation  of  the  Oratory  at  Bir- 
mingham, where  he  has  since  remained.     He  has  published  a  volume  of 
"  Hymns  and  Poems,"  and  several  prose  works. 

MARY  MAGDALEN. 

ESUS  hath  vanished  :  all  in  vain 
I  search  for  Him,  and  search  again, 
Seeking  to  relieve  my  pain. 

My  sobs  the  garden  fill, 
My  sighs  in  tears  distil ; 

My  heart  is  breaking.     Where  is  He  ? 

Who  hath  hid  my  love  from  me  ? 

JESUS. 

Who  is  this  in  wild  disorder, 
Running  over  bed  and  border? 

O  lady,  speak! 

Declare,  declare, 

What  floweret  fair 


y8    JESUS  HATH  VANISHED .  ALL  IN  VAIN 

Hither  you  come  to  seek  ; 
Wherefore    these    piteous  tears   bedew  your 
cheek  ! 

MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Say,  O  gentle  gardener,  say, 

Where  have  they  borne  my  Lord  away  ? 
In  what  deep  grove  or  glade 
Have  they  His  body  laid  ? 
Where  is  that  lily  sweet, 
The  Son  of  God  most  dear  ? 
Tell  me,  oh,  tell  me  where ! 

That  I  may  go,  and  kiss  His  sacred  feet, 

And  my  true  Spouse  adore, 

And  to  His  Mother's  arms  the  Son  restore ! 

JESUS. 

Mary,  what  blindness  hath  come  o'er  thee ! 

I,  thy  Jesus,  stand  before  thee,  — 
I,  that  immortal  flower 
Of  Nazareth's  fair  bower; 

I,  amid  thousands,  the  Elect  alone ; 

I,  thy  beloved  ;  I,  thine  own  ! 

MARY    MAGDALEN. 

Jesu,  Master  !     Thy  dear  sight 
Quite  dissolves  me  with  delight ! 
O  Joy  of  joys  !  to  see  thy  face, 
And  those  celestial  feet  embrace ! 


HAIL    THE   HOLY  PAY  0/    DAYS!        79 

J1  ~ ' 

Touch  me  not  yet  :  the  hour  is  drawing  nigh 
When  thou  shalt  sec  Me  glorified  on  high  ; 
Then   in   Mine  endless  presence    shalt    thou 

rest, 
And,  drinking  of  My  light,  live  on   forever 

blest  ! 


Hail  tfjc  f&ofo  £3au  of  Dags ! 

{Hicc  est  sancta  tolemnitas  solminitatttm.} 

A  sequence  from  a  manuscript  missal  translated  by  John  William 
H  it,  in   "Lyra  Iffessianica."     Mr.   Hewett  was  born   about   1828, 

graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  in  1849,  was  ordained  deacon  in 
the  same  year,  and  priest  the  year  following.  He  held  the  position  of 
tutor  of  St.  Nicholas  College,  Shoreham,  for  several  years,  and  was  after- 
ward curate  of  Bloxham  and  of  Whitwick.  He  is  the  author  of  several 
antiquarian,  historical,  and  ecclesiastical  works,  of  some  original  hymns 
and  of  one  or  two  volumes  of  translations  of  Latin  hymns. 

|; AIL  the  holy  day  of  days  ! 

High  the  song  of  triumph  raise  ; 
To  the  Saviour's  glory  tell, 
How  the  cross  hath  vanquished  hell, 
And  the  empire,  old  and  strong, 
Satan's  power  had  held  so  long. 
By  the  precious  blood  are  we 
Xow  redeemed  of  Christ,  and  free  : 


SO  HAIL    THE   HOLY  DAY  OF  DAYS! 

High  thanksgiving  therefore  raise, 

Sing  the  great  Redeemer's  praise. 

King  of  kings,  Thy  saints  unite 

To  the  choir  of  Angels  bright ; 

Hear  them  when  they  make  their  prayer, 

For  Thy  worship  is  their  care. 

Show  them,  Lord,  Thy  tender  grace, 

All  the  sweetness  of  Thy  face. 

Thou,  Who  wouldst  not  man  should  lie, 

Under  righteous  doom  to  die, 

Who,  for  man,  didst  stoop  so  low, 

Death  Thyself  to  undergo,  — 

Thou  hast  changed  that  law  of  doom, 

Rising  from  Thy  sacred  tomb. 

Now,  Thy  bitter  passion  done, 

Thou,  the  well-beloved  Son 

Of  the  Father,  throned  on  high, 

Rulest  all  below  the  sky. 

Alleluia  !  Lord,  we  sing, 

Jesu,  Christ,  Redeemer,  King ! 


SMILE   PRAISES,    0   SKY  I  8  I 


Smile  Praises,  ©  Sftg! 

{Plaudit*  cctli.) 

The  author  and  the  date  of  the  following  are  unknown  ;  it  is  not  earlier 
than  the  fourteenth,  and  is  possibly  as  recent  as  the  sixteenth  century. 
The  translation  is  by  Mrs.  ELIZABETH  CHARLES,  and  is  contained  in  her 
"Voice  of  Christian  Life  in  Song."  Mrs.  Charles  is  the  daughter  of 
John  Rundle,  Esq.,  of  Tavistock,  Devonshire,  England,  where  she  was 
born.  She  has  written  a  very  popular  series  of  narratives,  the  scenes 
and  characters  in  which  are  largely  drawn  from  modern  religious  history. 
She  has  enriched  hymnology  by  original  hymns  and  translations;  and  the 
work  from  which  the  following  is  taken  is  one  of  considerable  value  and 
interest. 

MILK  praises,  O  sky! 

Soft  breathe  them,  O  air ! 
Below  and  on  high, 
And  everywhere. 
The  black  troop  of  storms 

Has  yielded  to  calm  ; 
Tufted  blossoms  are  peeping, 
And  early  palm. 

Arouse  thee,  O  spring  ! 

Ye  flowers,  come  forth, 
With  thousand  hues  tinting 

The  soft  green  earth  ; 


82  SMILE   PRAISES,    O   SKY! 

Ye  violets  tender, 

And  sweet  roses  bright, 

Gay  Lent-lilies  blended 
With  pure  lilies  white. 

Sweep,  tides  of  rich  music, 

The  full  veins  along ; 
And  pour  in  full  measure, 

Sweet  lyres,  your  song. 
Sing,  sing,  for  He  liveth,  — 

He  lives,  as  He  said ; 
The  Lord  has  arisen 

Unharmed  from  the  dead. 

Clap,  clap  your  hands,  mountains ! 

Ye  valleys,  resound  ! 
Leap,  leap  for  joy,  fountains  ! 

Ye  hills,  catch  the  sound. 
All  triumph  !     He  liveth,  — 

He  lives,  as  He  said ; 
The  Lord  hath  arisen 

Unharmed  from  the  dead. 


NOW  MORNING  LIFTS  HER  DEWY  VEIL.   83 


Xofo  {Horning  iLtfts  Ijrr  Drtoy  Fril. 

{Ad  ttmpla  nos  rursus  vocat.\ 

A  translation   of  a  Latin  hymn   <>f  uncertain   date   and   authorship. 

This  version    is   by  Rev.  JotiN   CHANDLER  (U>rn   about    1S05,  and,  a>   late 

.  still  living  in  Surrey,  England).  Lt  is  a  variation  —  ooosiderably 
improved  and  strengthened — upon  a  translation  of  the  same  hymn  by 
Rev.  [saac  Williams  (born  in  1802,  died  in  1865).  There  is  >till  another 
translation  by  Edward  Caswall,  Again  the  Sunday  morn." 

0\V  Morning  lifts  her  dewy  veil. 

With  new-born  blessings  crowned  : 
Oh,  haste  we,  then,  her  light  to  hail 
In  courts  of  holy  ground  ! 

But  Christ,  triumphant  o'er  the  grave, 

Shines  more  divinely  bright: 
Oh,  sing  we  then  His  power  to  saw. 

And  walk  we  in  His  light ! 

When  from  the  swaddling  bands  of  shade 

Sprang  forth  the  world  so  fair. 
In  robes  of  brilliancy  arrayed, 

Oh,  what  a  Power  was  there  ! 

When  He,  who  gave  His  guiltless  Son 
A  guilty  world  to  spare, 


34  NOW  MORNING  LIFTS  HER  DEWY  VEIL, 

Restored  to  life  the  Holy  One, 
Oh,  what  a  Love  was  there ! 

When  forth  from  its  Creator's  hand 

The  earth  in  beauty  stood, 
All  decked  with  light  at  His  command, 

He  saw,  and  called  it  good. 

But  still  more  lovely  in  His  sight, 

The  earth  still  fairer  stood, 
When  the  Holy  Lamb  had  washed  it  white 

In  His  atoning  blood. 

Still,  as  the  morning  rays  return, 

To  the  pious  soul  'tis  given 
In  fancy's  mirror  to  discern 

The  radiant  domes  of  heaven. 

But,  now  that  our  eternal  Sun 
Hath  shed  His  beams  abroad, 

In  Him  we  see  the  Holy  One, 
And  mount  at  once  to  God. 

Oh,  holy,  blessed  Three  in  One ! 

May  Thy  pure  light  be  given, 
That  we  the  paths  of  death  may  shun, 

And  keep  the  road  to  Heaven  ! 


0  THOU,  THE  HEAVENS'  E  TERNAL  KINC 


O  Gfjott,  tfjc  batons'  lEtcmal  Iting] 

[Rex  sempiterm  ccditum.) 

From  the  Roman  Dreviary.  Translated  by  Edward  CASWALL. 
There  arc  other  versions,  of  which  that  by  the  compilers  of  "  Hymns 
Ail'  iciit  and  Modern,"  beginning,  "  O  Christ,  the  Heavens'  Eternal 
King,"  is  the  most  familiar.  Mi.  Caswall's  translation,  however,  excels 
it,  both  in  strength  and  beauty 


THOU,  the  heavens'  eternal  King, 
Lord  of  the  starry  spheres  ! 

Who  with  the  Father  equal  art, 
From  everlasting  years  : 


All  praise  to  Thy  most  holy  Name, 
Who,  when  the  world  began, 

Yoking  the  soul  with  clay,  didst  form, 
In  Thine  own  image,  man. 

And  praise  to  Thee,  who,  when  the  foe 
Had  marred  Thy  work  sublime, 

Clothing  Thyself  in  flesh,  didst  mould 
Our  race  a  second  time  ; 

When  from  the  tomb  new-born,  as  from 
A  virgin  born  before, 


86    O   THOU,  THE  HEAVENS'  ETERNAL  KING  I 

Thou,  raising  us  from  death  with  Thee, 
Didst  us  in  Thee  restore. 

Eternal  Shepherd  !  who  Thy  flock 

In  Thy  pure  font  dost  lave, 
Where  souls  are  cleansed,  and  all  their  guilt 

Buried,  as  in  a  grave  ; 

Jesu,  who  to  the  cross  wast  nailed, 

Our  hopeless  debt  to  pay, — 
Jesu,  who  lavishly  didst  pour 

Thy  blood  for  us  away,  — 

Oh,  from  the  wretched  death  of  sin 

Keep  us  !  so  shalt  Thou  be 
The  everlasting  Paschal  joy 

Of  all  new-born  in  Thee. 

To  God  the  Father,  with  the  Son 

Who  from  the  grave  arose, 
And  Thee,  O  Paraclete,  be  praise 

While  age  on  ages  flows ! 


HELPED  BY   THE  ALMIGHTY'S  ARM.    87 


Jjdprti  liu  t!)r  aimiflijtg'g  arm,  at  ILast. 

{Ford  tegentt  brachial 

From  the   Paris  Breviary.    Translated  by  John  David  Cham 
in   "Lauda   Syon:    Ancient    Latin    Hymns  of  the    English    and  other 

Churches."    Mr.  Chambers  was  a  graduate  of  Oxford  in  1826,  and  has 

made  a  number  of  contributions  to  devotional  literature. 

[lELPED   by  the   Almighty's    arm,    at 
last 
Behold  the  Red  Sea's  channel  past, 
Where  He,  with  matchless  prowess,  broke 
The  infernal  tyrant's  hateful  yoke. 

Oh  !  therefore  joyful  thanks  this  day 
Let  us  to  Christ,  our  Champion,  pay; 
And  round  the  Lamb's  own  board  unite, 
Arrayed  in  shining  robes  of  white. 

There  duly  may  His  sacred  flesh 
And  hallowed  blood  our  souls  refresh  ; 
Enkindling  there  the  fire  of  love, 
That  we  may  live  with  Him  above. 

Henceforth  our  Passover  is  Christ  ; 
Our  Lamb,  our  Victim  sacrificed  : 


8    THE  ORIENT  BEAMS  OF  EASTER  MORN, 

As  sprinkled  with  His  blood  we  stand, 
The  angel  stays  his  vengeful  hand. 

O  worthiest  Victim  !  born  to  reign  ; 
By  whom  Death's  very  self  is  slain  ; 
And,  crushed  before  whose  potent  sway, 
The  gates  of  hell  disgorge  their  prey  ! 

Christ,  from  the  grave's  departing  gloom, 
To  light  hath  issued  from  the  tomb  ; 
Down  to  the  abyss  the  foe  hath  driven, 
And  oped  the  sanctuaries  of  heaven. 


K\}t  ©rient  Beams  of  lEaster  Horn. 

{Aurora  lucis  dum  nova.) 

From  the  Paris  Breviary.     Translated  by  John  David   Chambers, 
in  "  Lauda  Syon." 

[HE  orient  beams  of  Easter  morn 
The  glowing  firmament  adorn  : 
Let  earth  with  joyous  plaudits  ring, 
The  Lamb's  victorious  triumphs  sing. 

He  with  His  Blood  —  pellucid  tide  !  — 
This  world  from  sin  hath  purified  ; 


'/'///■:  ORIENT  BEAMS  0/  /-.ASTER  MORN.   89 
The  Veil   He  rends,  the  Holiest  lies 

lied  unto  our  ravished  eyes  ! 

To  earth  consigned,  the  noble  Grain 

Inert  no  longer  may  remain  ; 
Scarce  dead,  behold  It  blooming  fair, 

A  rich  and  wondrous  harvest  bear  ! 

No  more  shall  death  the  flesh  destroy, 
Sown  in  sure  hope  of  future  joy  ; 
Our  God  to  life  the  way  hath  led, 
Who  rose,  the  first-fruits  of  the  dead. 

So  on  the  Cross  with  Jesus  slain, 
With  Him  revived  to  life  again, 
Shall  this  frail  body  rise,  to  rest 
In  His  all-irlorious  image  dressed. 


90  THOU,    WHO    TO  SAVE. 


Cfjott,  Wfya  to  Sabr. 

{yes// ,  Redemptor  steculi.) 


A  hymn  of  the  Paris  Breviary,  translated  by  Rev.  Isaac  Williams. 
Mr.  Williams  was  born  in  1802;  graduated  at  Oxford  1826;  was  ordained 
in  1831 ;  held  livings  at  Windrush,  Oxford,  and  Bisley;  suffered  for 
many  years  from  broken  health;  and  died  May  1,  1S65.  He  was  the 
author  of  a  large  number  of  hymns,  original  and  translated,  and  of  several 
devotional  and  homiletical  works  in  prose. 


HOU,  Who  to  save 

The  world  didst  die,  and  then  Thy 
breath 
Resume,  to  vanquish  gloomy  death, 
And  kill  the  grave ; 


O'er  all  below 
Night    reigns ;    our   eyes    are    weighed    with 

sleep  : 
Oh,  from  the  wiles  and  watchings  keep 

Of  the  great  foe 

May  rest,  which  lays 
Care's  lid,  and  labor's  brow  doth  slake, 
Quicken  our  hearts,  more  fresh  to  wake 

Unto  Thy  praise ! 


CHRIST  WITH  MIGHTY  TRIUMPH  RISES  I  91 

( )h,  be  it  given 
With  Thee  to  die,  on  earth  to  love 

The  better  things  which  are  above, 

And  dwell  in  I  leaven  ! 


Cijrtst  fottij  ffltcjljtyj  Kriutnpf)  rises! 

[Surgit  Christus  cum    Tropluco.) 

An  Easter  Sequence  from  the  Missal  of  Toumay:  sixteenth  century. 
Translated  byJoHN  William  Hbwett.     From  "  Lyra  Mystica.' 

biographical  note  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  Hail,  the  Holy  Day  of  Days!  " 


IIHRIST  with  mighty  Triumph  rises ! 
All  the  gates  of  Death  surprises  ! 
From  a  Lamb  a  Lion  strong. 
Hell  through  all  its  depths  is  quaking  ; 
Earth  through  all  its  graves  is  shaking  : 
Raise  on  high  the  Victor's  song  ! 

Hail  the  Lamb  !  adore  him  greatly, 
Who  upon  the  Cross  but  lately 

For  His  helpless  Sheep  was  slain  : 
By  His  Death  He  brought  Salvation, 
To  the  lost  of  every  nation 

Showed  the  Way  of  Life  again. 


92    CHRIST  WITH  MIGHTY  TRIUMPH  RISES \ 

He  alone  His  Passion  bearing, 
None  His  mighty  Grief -was  sharing 

Save  repentant  Magdalene. 
Tell  us,  Mary,  'mid  thy  weeping, 
By  the  Cross  thy  station  keeping, 

All  the  woes  that  thou  hast  seen.  — 


I  beheld  the  Lord's  Anointed 
Bear  the  Stripes  to  sin  appointed, 

Lifted  on  His  Cross  to  die ; 
Saw  the  Lord  His  Thorn-crown  wearing, 
Grossest  insult  meekly  bearing, 

Pale  His  cheek,  and  sunk  His  eye. 

Through  His  Hands  the  nails  were  driven, 
By  the  spear  His  Side  was  riven  : 

Then  He  bowed  His  sacred  Head, 
And  His  Soul  to  God  commended, 
All  His  bitter  Passion  ended  : 

Lo  !  the  Lord  of  Life  was  dead.  — 


Tell  us,  Mary,  all  thy  doing, 
Still  thy  task  of  love  pursuing, 

When  the  Saviour's  Soul  was  fled.  — 
By  the  martyred  Mother  keeping, 
While  I  soothed,  I  shared  her  weeping, 

Till  unto  her  home  I  led  : 


_ 


CHRIST  WITH  MIGHTY  TRIUMPH  RISES  I  93 

Then,  upon  the  hard  earth  falling, 
Mourned  I  o'er  that  Scene  appalling, 

Mourned  my  Saviour's  bitter  Doom  ; 
Then  the  fragrant  spices  blending, 

Love's  last  preeious  care  attending, 

I  lied  me  to  the  sacred  Tomb  : 


Search  for  my  Beloved  making, 

Him  for  Whom  my  heart  was  breaking, 

All  my  searching  proved  in  vain  : 
Then  my  Soul  was  newly  troubled, 
All  my  grief  and  care  was  doubled, 
And  my  tears  burst  forth  again.  — 

Weep  not,  Mary,  now  unduly  ; 
Christ  the  Lord  hath  risen  truly, 

Broke  the  seal,  and  'scaped  the  ward.  - 
Words  of  comfort  ye  have  spoken  ; 
And  indeed  no  single  token 

Saw  I  of  the  risen  Lord  : 

Shining  Angels  told  the  story, — 
Here  is  not  the  Lord  of  Glory ; 

He  is  risen,  as  He  said : 
See  unwound  each  linen  cerement, 
And  yon  token  of  endearment 

Which  enwrapped  His  sacred  Head. 


94  AXGELS,    TO    OUR   JUBILEE. 

Yea,  indeed,  the  Lord  is  risen  ! 
Bursting  from  his  narrow  Prison  ; 

Hope  in  Him,  ye  Sons  of  men  ! 
Risen  Saviour,  leave  us  never, 
Show  us  Love  and  Pity  ever ; 

Alleluia  !  Lord  !     Amen. 


Angels,  to  ©ur  Subiltt. 

{Adeste,  Call 'ttt m  chori.) 

A  hymn  of  Nicholas  Le  Tourneaux,  a  priest  of  Rouen,  in  1686; 
translated  by  William  John  Blew.  Mr.  Blew  was  born  about  1810,  and 
graduated  at  Oxford  in  1832.  He  has  held  a  living  at  St.  John's,  near 
Gravesend,  Kent.  He  is  the  author  of  a  translation  of  the  Agamemnon 
of  iEschylus,  of  a  number  of  hymns  and  translations  from  the  Latin,  and 
of  a  compact  but  veiy  valuable  treatise  on  "  Hymns  and  Hymn-Books." 

jjNGELS,  to  our  Jubilee 

Haste,   your  sweetest    songs   awak- 
ing: 
Christ  amid  the  dead  is  free, 

Christ  the  rocky  tomb  is  breaking. 
Vain  the  guard  around  the  grave  ; 
Vain  the  rulers'  wild  endeavor ; 
Vain  the  seal  upon  the  cave 
Of  the  nation  faithless  ever. 


,    TO  OUR  JUBILEE,  95 

Fear,  away  !  no  subtle  spy 

Steals  that  form  so  sorely  stricken  : 

He  who  willed  the  death  to  die 

Will  with  life  Himself  requicken. 
Offspring  of  a  Virgin's  womb, 

Virgin-born  He  came,  in  token 
That  through  Jewry's  guarded  tomb 

He  should  rise  with  seals  unbroken. 
Hanging  on  the  inglorious  tree, 

Mad  with  mocking  lips  they  grieve  Him, — 
M  Let  him  quit  the  Cross,  and  we 

Will  the  Son  of  God  believe  Him." 
From  the  Cross  He  came  not  down, 

Yet  He  worked  a  mightier  wonder: 
Son  of  God  the  Saviour  own  ; 

Dead,  He  smites  grim  death  asunder. 
Grant  us,  Lord,  with  Thee  to  die, 

.And  to  rise  at  Thine  uprising; 
And  to  set  our  heart  on  high, 

Larth  and  all  its  joys  despising. 


96        JESUS  CHRIST  IS  RISEN  TO-DAY. 


3rsus  Cfjrfet  is  fttscn  Co^ag. 

{Si:?' rex  it  Christ  us  hodie.) 

An  anonymous  hymn,  written  about  1750.  Contained  in  "  Hymns 
Ancient  and  Modern."  Probably  reproduced  from  a  Latin  hymn  of  the 
fifteenth  century-. 


1ESUS  Christ  is  risen  to-day,  Alleluia  ! 
Our  triumphant  holy  day,  Alleluia  ! 
Who  did  once,  upon  the  cross,  Alle- 
luia ! 
Suffer  to  redeem  our  loss,  Alleluia! 

Hymns  of  praise  then  let  us  sing,  Alleluia ! 
Unto  Christ,  our  heavenly  King,  Alleluia  ! 
Who  endured  the  Cross  and  Grave,  Alleluia! 
Sinners  to  redeem  and  save,  Alleluia! 

But  the  pain  which  He  endured,  Alleluia  ! 
Our  Salvation  hath  procured,  Alleluia  ! 
Now  above  the  sky  He's  King,  Alleluia ! 
Where  the  angels  ever  sing,  Alleluia! 

Amen. 


Jrom  tl)c  Russian. 


THE  GOLDEN  PALACE  01  MY  GOD 


83je  iGoltini  Palace  of  my  (Eoto. 

By  Semen  S  I  whose  birth  i^  nn- 

known.     He  was  an  assessor  of  <  ■  at  the  University 

of  M  -    >w,  and  began  his  career  as  .1  poet  in   17-4.     In   18^3  he  i>ul>- 
lished  Day        ihc  Tauric  Peninsula;** 

.  of  the  North,"  lyrical  poems  in  four  parts;  in  1S07, 
•   1        \  :  V  rht  of  the  Universe,  or  the  Blind  Wanderer,"  a  poem  in 

lied  in  1S10.  He  had  a  hen-  imagination,  and  a  fund 
of  feeling,  but  was  not  always  felicitous  in  expression,  and  his  sublimity 
rges  upon  bombast  He  was  more  familiar  with  English 
literature  than  any  other  Russian  writer.  The  following  hymn  is  sung  in 
the  Russian  churches  at  midnight  a  week  before  Easter.  The  transla- 
tion is  by  Sir  John  Bowring. 


[HE  golden  Palace  of  my  God 

Towering  above  the  clouds  I  see, 
Beyond  the  Cherubs'  bright  abode, 
Higher  than  angels'  thoughts  can  be. 

How  can  I  in  those  Courts  appear 
Without  a  wedding-garment  on  ? 

Conduct  me,  thou  Life-Giver,  there, — 
Conduct  me  to  Thy  glorious  throne  ! 
And  clothe  me  with  Thv  robes  of  light, 
And  lead  me  through  Sin's  darksome  night, 
My  Saviour  and  my  God  ! 


IOO    WHY.    THOC  iVEJ'ER-SETTIXG  LIGHT. 


8Hfj2,  ftfjou  Xfbcr=Srtttng  light. 


Also  by  Boeroff,  translated  by  Bowring.  See  note  to  the  preceding. 
This  also  is  a  midnight  hymn,  and  is  sung  in  the  Russian  churches  at 
Easter. 


|HY,  thou  Never-Setting  Light, 

Is  thy  brightness  veiled  from  me  ? 
Why  does  this  unusual  night 
Cloud  thy  blest  benignity  ? 
I  am  lost  without  thy  ray : 

Guide  my  wandering  footsteps,  Lord ! 
Light  my  dark  and  erring  way 
To  the  noontide  of  thy  word  ! 


JTrom  tl)c  Danisl). 


ARISE,  MY  son.:  AWAKE  FROM  SLEEP  I  103 


arise,  mg  Soul  I  afoafce  from  £lcrp  I 

By  Thomas  Kin  -  bora  in  Slangcrap  in  i( 

pointed  curate  of  Kirke-Helsinge  in  (662, and  priest  at  Slangi  rupin  1668, 
tt.i>  made  Bishop  of  Funen  in  1677;  and  died  in  17  3.     He  was  the  author 
of  over  two  hundred  quaint  psalms  and  hymns,  and  was  much  bekn 
his  countrymen.     He  has  been  called  the  Or   Watts  of  Denmark.    The 
translator  of  this  hynm  and  the  two  following  is  Mr.Gu  .    They 

are  to  be  found  in  bis  collection  ni  "  The  Hymns  of  Denmark." 


■RISE,  my  soul!  awake  from  sleep! 
Behold  thy  Saviour's  grave  ! 
His  loved  ones,  mourning,  laid  Him 
deep 
In  Death's  devouring  cave  ; 
But  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
.And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 

A  cheering  sound,  an  angel's  voice, 

Proclaimeth  from  on  high, 
Our  brother,  Jesus,  —  oh,  rejoice!  — 

Could  not  Death's  captive  lie  ; 
But  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 

0  sacred  day,  sublimest  day  ! 

O  mystery  unheard  ! 
Death's  hosts,  that  claimed  Him  as  their  prey, 

He  scattered  with  a  word  ; 


*04  ARISE,  MY  SOUL!  AWAKE  FROM  SLEEP! 

And  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 

0  holy,  holy  Paschal  morn  ! 

We  triumphed  have  through  thee  : 
Thou  sweetenest  Christ's  torture,  borne 

Upon  the  fatal  tree ; 
For  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 

1  boldly  now  defy  thee,  Death  ! 

For  thou  hast  lost  thy  sting ; 
Defy,  O  Hell !  thy  blasting  breath, 

All  terrors  thou  canst  bring; 
For  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name ! 

The  grave  is  dark,  the  grave  is  cold, 

And  I  must  slumber  there  ; 
But,  risen,  I  shall  Christ  behold, 

Christ's  glories  I  shall  share  ; 
For  from  the  tomb  He  valiant  came, 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 

That  I  a  welcome  warm  may  win 

From  Jesus  in  the  skies, 
From  the  foul  sepulchre  of  sin 

May  I  as  valiant  rise 
As  from  the  tomb  the  Saviour  came  : 
And  ever  blessed  be  His  name  ! 


CHRIST,  ON  THE  SABBATH  MOA'X.      105 


JFrom  Death,  tTln'tst,  on  the  5abbatf) 
fHorn. 

By  Nicola]  Frsderik  ic,  born  at  I 

Zealand,  Sept  8,  1783.     He  stud*  at   iarhuus,  and 

became  deeply   interested   in   Icelandic  literature.       For  several   y< 
taught  in    Langeland,   and  wrote  essays  on  the   Edda,   &<  .       Iii    1808   lie 
published  a  polemic  poem  lashing  the  frivolity  of  the  people  of  Copenhagen, 
work  on  Northern  mythology.     About  this  time  his  mind,  always 

devout,  became  deeply  and  passionately  religious,  and  he  devoted  himself 
unreservedly  to  the  work  of  moral  and  religious  ret.,rm.  His  "  Probation 
Sermon  "  threw  the 'clergy  of  Copenhagen  into  an  uproar,  and  called  down 
upon  him  their  formal  censure.  In  1813,  after  a  period  of  resl 
by  illness  and  nervous  excitement,  he  returned  to  Copenhagen,  and  pr- 
conversion  and  faith  to  his  countrymen;  and  in  1814,  when  the  Allied 
Army  overran  Holstein,  he  renewed  his  patriotic  and  religious  appeals. 
His  earnestness  provoked  frequent  attacks  from  the  rationalistic  clergy, 
who  prevented  his  preferment.  In  1822-26  he  was  resident  chaplain 
of  Our  Saviour's  Church  at  Christianshavn;  and  in  1839  was  appointed 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  Copenhagen.  He  was  an 
indefatigable  literary  worker,  and  undertook  laborious  translations  from 
Icelandic  and  Anglo-Saxon  literature  His  collection  of  psalms  and 
hymns  was  published  in  1841.  Howitt  likens  him  to  John  the  Baptist 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  and  characterizes  him  as  "one  of  the  giants  of 
the  North,  burning  with  religious  zeal."  Miss  Bremer  placed  him  fore- 
most among  Danish  bards  and  seers,  and  said  of  his  hymns,  that  they 
gave  new  life  to  the  church  music  of  Denmark.  The  following  i»  fr  »m 
Mr.  Tait's  "  Hymns  of  Denmark." 

y^jl'ROM  death,  Christ,  on  the  Sabbath 

■  ==&  A  conqueror  arose  ; 

And,  when  each  Sabbath  dawn  is  born, 

For  death  a  healing  grows. 
This  day  proclaims  an  ended  strife, 
And  Christ's  ben i em  and  holy  life. 


106    O  CHRISTIANS,  LET  US  JOYFUL  BE! 

By  countless  lips  the  wondrous  tale 
Is  told  throughout  the  earth  : 

Ye  that  have  ears  to  hear,  oh,  hail 
That  tale  with  sacred  mirth  ! 

Awake,  my  soul !  rise  from  the  dead ! 

See  life's  grand  light  around  thee  shed  ! 

Death  trembles  each  sweet  Sabbath  hour : 
Death's  brother,  Darkness,  quakes  : 

Christ's  word  speaks  with  divinest  power ; 
Christ's  truth  its  silence  breaks  : 

They  vanquish  with  their  valiant  breath 

The  reis;n  of  Darkness  and  of  Death. 


©  Christians,  let  its  Sogful  &c! 

By  Ramus,  who   is   represented   by   several   hymns   in   Mr. 

Tait's  "  Hymns  of  Denmark."  The  editor  has  made  careful  search  in 
English  and  French  histories  of  Danish  Literature,  and  in  various  bio- 
graphical dictionaries,  but  finds  no  mention  of  this  author,  whose  place  is 
doubtless  among  the  minor  sacred  poets  of  Denmark. 


CHRISTIANS,  let  us  joyful  be  ! 

How  sweet,  how  holy  is  this  day  ! 
Behold  Him  free,  and  boldly  free,  — 
Our  Saviour,  Christ,  death's  grandest  prey  ! 
He  burst  the  fetters  of  the  tomb, 
And  rose  in  triumph  from  the  gloom. 


0  CHRISTIANS,  LET  US  JOYFUL  BE  I    107 

For  sin  a  bitter  lot  I  le  ch< 

The  Cross's  pangs  He  willing  bore; 
First-fruits  of  them  that  slept,  He  rose; 

And  we  shall  rise,  to  sleep  no  more. 
Oh,  comfort  for  each  contrite  soul, 
To  see  away  death's  terrors  roll  ! 

To  Thee,  O  loving  God  !  we  pray  : 

May  in  our  heart  Thy  Spirit  dwell  : 
Oh,  lead  us  in  salvation's  way  ; 

Teach  us  to  feel  that  all  is  well ; 
And,  when  our  earthly  course  is  run, 
Give  us  the  kingdom  Jesus  won  ! 


JTrom  tl)c  (German. 


Till- RE    WENT  THREE  DAM:.' 


I  I  I 


Ocrc  toent  tTfjrrc  Damsels  err  Break 
of  Dau. 

This  quaint  ballad  was  a  favorite  with  devout  Germans  of  the  four- 
teenth century.  The  name  of  the  author  is  not  known.  The  translation  is 
[HBRINE  WlNKWORTH,  who  was  born  about  1825;  and  died  July, 
1878.  English  readers  are  indebted  to  her  for  many  admirable  transla- 
tions of  German  hymns  contained  in  her  I  Lyra  Germanica," 
and  her  history  of  "  The  Christian  Singers  of  Germany." 

HERE  went  three  damsels  ere  break 
of  day : 
To  the  Holy  Grave  they  took  their 
way  ; 
They  fain  would  anoint  the  Lord  once  more. 
As  Mary  Magdalene  did  before.     Alleluia! 

The  damsels  each  to  other  made  moan,  — 
"Who  will  roll  us  away  the  stone, 
That  we  may  enter  in  amain 
To  anoint  the  Lord  as  we  are  fain  ?  " 


Full  precious  spices  and  salve  they  brought  ; 
But,  when  they  came  to  the  spot  they  sought, 
Behold,  the  grave  doth  open  stand  ! 
An  ans;el  sitteth  on  either  hand  ! 


1 1  2    THERE   WENT  THREE  DAMSELS. 

"  Ye  maidens,  be  not  filled  with  fear  : 
He  whom  ye  seek,  He  is  not  here: 
Behold,  the  raiment  white  and  fair, 
Which  the  Lord  was  wrapped  in,  lieth  there. 

"  Ye  maidens,  do  not  here  delay  : 

Ye  must  to  Galilee  away ; 

To  Galilee  ye  now  must  go, 

For  there  the  Lord  Himself  will  show." 

But  Mary  Magdalene  could  not  depart : 
Seeking  the  Lord,  she  wept  apart. 
What  saw  she  in  a  little  while  ? 
She  saw  our  Lord  upon  her  smile. 

In  garb  and  wise  He  met  her  there 
As  were  He  a  gardener,  and  did  bear 
A  spade  within  His  holy  hand, 
As  would  He  dig  the  garden  land. 

"  Oh  !  tell  me,  gentle  Gardener  thou, 
Where  hast  thou  laid  my  Master  now  ? 
Where  thou  hast  hidden  Him,  bid  me  know, 
Or  my  heart  must  break  beneath  its  woe." 

Scarce  could  He  speak  a  single  word, 
Ere  she  beheld  it  was  the  Lord  : 
She  kneeleth  clown  on  the  cold  bare  stone  ; 
She  hath  found  her  Lord,  and  she  alone. 


REJOICE,  DEAR  CHRISTENDOM,   TO-DAY.    \  I  J 

"Touch  me  not,  Mary  Magdalene, 
But  tell  the  brethren  what  thou  hast  seen  : 
Touch  me  not  now  with  human  hand, 
Until  I  ascend  to  my  Father's  land." 

Alleluia! 


Rejoice,  Dear  GTljristcnliom,  Cotum 

This  hymn  belongs  in  the  same  period  as  the  preceding,  but  is  an 
expansion  of   an   earlier   Easter  sequence.     Miss   Winkworth    i>   the 

translator. 


jjEJOICE,  dear  Christendom,  to-day; 
For  Christ  hath  overcome  : 
His  bitter  pains  have  passed  away, 


And  empty  stands  His  tomb; 
Those  bitter  pains  had  been  our  lot, 
If  Christ  for  us  had  borne  them  not. 
Great  bliss  hath  risen  on  us  to-day  : 

Alleluia  ! 

O  Easter  Day,  our  voices  ne'er 

Can  praise  thee  fittingly; 
Since  God,  whose  power  all  things  declare, 

Such  glory  puts  on  thee  : 

But  let  us  keep  thee  as  we  can. 

Angels  to-day  rejoice  with  man, 
When  rose  that  Sun  so  wondrous  fair  : 

Alleluia! 


114         SO  HOL  Y  IS  THIS  DA  Y  OF  DA  YS. 

O  Jesus  Christ,  our  blessed  Lord, 

We  share  Thy  joy  to-day! 
All  those  who  hear  and  keep  Thy  Word 

Are  glad  with  Thee  to-day  ! 

All  Christian  people  now  rejoice 

With  freshened  hearts  and  gladsome  voice. 
Glory  to  Thee,  our  Blessed  Lord  : 

Alleluia ! 

Praise  to  the  Father  and  the  Son, 

And  to  the  Holy  Ghost : 
For  all  the  sins  that  we  have  clone, 

To-day  forgive  us  most ; 

And  give  us  peace  and  unity, 

From  now  to  all  eternity, 
So  sing  we  as  the  ages  run  : 

Alleluia ! 


So  fgols  is  tijis  Darj  of  Dags. 

This  sequence  is  found  about  the  same  date  as  the  preceding:  and,  in 
the  old  manuscripts  which  contain  it,  it  is  called  "  The  Common'  Man's 
Processional."     The  translation  is  by  Miss  WlNK WORTH. 


O  holy  is  this  day  of  days, 
Xo  man  can  fill  its  meed  of  praise. 
Since  the  Holy  Son  of  God 


FAIR  SPRING,   THOU  DEARES1  ■  I  I  ; 

Now  hath  conquered  Death  and  Hell, 

And  bound  the  Devil  who  there  doth  dwell, 
Si)  hath  the  Lord  delivered  Christendom  ; 

This  was  Christ  himseli  : 

Kyrie  Eleison  ! 


jTair  Spring,  tljou  Nearest  Season  of 
tlir  gear* 


cad  von  Qieinfukt,  who  died  in  Silesia  in  13S2.  Miss  WlNK- 
WORTH,  who  translates  it,  observes  that  it  is  quite  in  the  style  of  the  Minne- 
singers, both  in  thought  and  the  carefully  varied  metre. 


[AIR  Spring,  thou  dearest  season  of 

the  year, 
Thou  art  brimful  of  sweet  delights  : 
The  creatures  robbed  of  joy  by  winter  drear 
Thou  dost  repay  for  cold  and  gloomy  nights. 
I  feel  thy  airs  are  soft  and  mild  ; 
Thy  winds  are  balmy,  and  not  wild  : 
Oh,  how  unlike  the  wintry  blast  ! 
What  Frost  had  bound  in  fetters  fast 
Now  feels  the  prison-time  gone  by  ; 

For  'tis  unbound  and  free  : 
Whether  it  climb  or  swim  or  fly, 

Whatever  kind  it  be, 
Whether  of  water,  earth,  or  sky, 
'Tis  happy  now  we  see. 


Il6   FAIR  SPRING,    THOU  DEAREST  SEASON. 

The  sun  smiles  with  his  lovely  rays  ; 
And    sing,   dear  little    birds,   sing    out  your 
Maker's  praise  ! 

So  many  joys  hath  Spring;  but  most  of  all 

She  hath  one  day  above  the  rest, 
That  Christendom  with  one  glad  voice  doth 
call 
Of  all  bright  days  the  first  and  best. 
We  hail  thee,  then,  O  chosen  Day, 
With  many  a  loud  and  gladsome  lay. 
Thou  art  the  day  that  God  hath  made  : 
Well  may  our  joy  be  now  displayed  ! 
Thou  art  the  Pascha  to  the  Greek ; 

And  still  we  hear  the  Jew 
Of  thee  as  Passover  doth  speak  ; 

And  Latins  know  thee  too 
As    Transittis,    that    crowns    the    Holv 
Week  : 
But    thou,    where'er    is    heard    the    German 

tongue, 
Art  holy  Easter-tide,  when  life  from  Death 
hath  sprung. 

We  hail  thee,  blessed  Day,  we  greet  thee  well, 

We  praise  thee  ever,  we  adore 
The  Christ  who   triumphed   over  death   and 
hell, 

Whose  death  slew  Death  forevermore. 


FAIR  SPRING,   THOU  DEAREST  SEASON.    I  \J 

0  sweetest  day,  that  saw'st  Thee  ris 
Our  Paschal  Lamb,  our  Sacrifi<     ' 

Our  Brother,  who  hast  won  for  us 
A  heritage  most  glorious  ! 
Forest  and   foliage,    corn    and    grass   and 

flowers, 
Would  show  their  love  to  Thee  ! 
The  birds  sing  in  the  greening  bowers  : 

Christ,  they  are  praising  Thee  ! 
Thou  wouldst  not  laek,  had  they  our  powers, 
A  song  more  worthy  Thee  ! 
For  Thou  art  Conqueror,  O  Christ,  to-day, 
Who  madest  Death's  great  power  itself  give 
way  ! 

So,  Christians,  triumph  as  your  heart  desires  ; 

In  chorus  sweet  and  clear  and  strong, 
Ye  laymen  in  the  church,  ye  priests  in  choirs, 
Answer  each  other  in  your  song. 

Sing,  "  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  again  ; 
Christ  hath  broken  every  chain." 
The  year  of  jubilee  He  bringeth  in, 
True  freedom  for  all   faithful  hearts  to 
win  : 
So  to  the  table  go  thou  solemnly, 

Where  in  His  flesh  and  blood 
The  Paschal  Lamb  itself  is  offered  thee,  — 
The  Lamb  slain  on  the  rood. 


Il8    CHRIST   THE  LORD   IS  RISEX  AG  A IX! 

Praise  the  true  Christ  with   happy  hearts 
and  free  ; 
Praise  Him,  for  He  is  good  ! 
Thus,  Spring,  thou  well  may'st  speak  of  joy  to 

man  : 
Thou  hast  the  Easter  Day  that  ended  Death's 
dark  ban. 


Cljrtst  tljc  ILorti  is  Ktscn  3c$am ! 


An  Easter  hymn  of  the  Bohemian  Brethren  in  the  fifteenth  century. 
Translated  into  German  by  Michael  Weiss  (died  in  1540);  and  into 
English  by  Catherine  Wixkwokth,  in  the  second  series  of  "  Lyra  Ger- 
manica."  The  Bohemian  Brethren,  according  to  Miss  Winkworth  (see 
"The  Christian  Singers  of  Germany"),  were  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
Slavonic  Christianity,  originating  in  the  teaching  of  two  Greek  monks  in 
the  ninth  century,  and  existing  in  Bohemia  before  the  Papal  authority  and 
Roman  liturgy  found  their  way  thither.  They  were  among  the  first  to 
hail  the  Reformation,  and  as  early  as  1522  offered  Luther  their  co-opera- 
tion. Their  overtures,  at  first  declined,  were  afterward  accepted.  They 
generally  joined  the  Zwinghans,  merging  in  that  body,  and  thus  disap- 
pearing from  history,  unless  the  United  Brethren,  or  Moravians,  may  be 
regarded  as  an  offshoot  from  them.  Michael  Weiss  was  born  at  Neisse, 
in  Silesia.  He  was  pastor  o\  German-speaking  congregations  o\  Lands- 
kron  and  Fulnek,  and  for  their  benefit  translated  into  German  some  of  the 
finest  Bohemian  hymns,  adding  some  of  his  own.  His  hymn-book  was 
greatly  admired  by  Luther,  and  passed  through  numerous  editions  in 
Germany  and  Holland. 


HRIST  the  Lord  is  risen  again  ! 

Christ  hath  broken  every  chain  ! 

Hark  !  the  angels  shout  for  joy, 

Singing  evermore  on  high,  — 


Hallelujah 


CHRIST   THE   LORD   IS  RISEN  AGAINl    I  h* 

I  [e  who  gave  for  us  I  [is  life, 
Who  for  us  endured  the  strife, 
[s  our  Paschal  Lamb  today  ! 
We,  too,  sing  for  joy,  and  say, — 
Hallelujah  1 

He  who  bore  all  pain  and  loss 
Comfortless  upon  the  cr 
Lives  in  glory  now  on  high, 

Pleads  for  us,  and  hears  our  cry, — 
Hallelujah  ! 

He  whose  path  no  records  tell, 
Who  descended  into  hell, 
Who  the  strong  man  armed  hath  bound, 
Now  in  the  highest  heaven  is  crowned  : 
Hallelujah  ! 

He  who  slumbered  in  the  grave 
Is  exalted  now  to  save  : 
Xow  through  Christendom  it  rings 
That  the  Lamb  is  King  of  kings  : 
Hallelujah  ! 

Xow  He  bids  us  tell  abroad 
How  the  lost  may  be  restored  ; 
How  the  penitent  forgiven  ; 
How  we,  too,  may  enter  heaven  : 
Hallelujah  ! 


120    IN  THE  BONDS   OF  DEATH  HE  LAY. 

Thou,  our  Paschal  Lamb  indeed, 
Christ,  to-day  Thy  people  feed  ; 
Take  our  sins  and  guilt  away  : 
Let  us  sing  by  night  and  day,  — 
Hallelujah! 


En  tije  Bonus  of  ©eatfj  &i  lag* 

By  Dr.  Martin  Luther,  the  great  Reformer.  He  was  born  at 
Eisleben,  Nov.  10,  1483;  received  his  early  education  at  Magdeburg,  and 
Eisenach,  where  his  progress  was  impeded  by  the  poverty  of  his  parents; 
entered  the  University  of  Erfurth  in  1501,  and  graduated  as  Doctor  of 
Philosophy  with  high  honor.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he  entered  the 
Monastery  of  St.  Augustine  at  Erfurth.  In  1508  he  became  Professor 
of  Philosophy  in  Wittenberg;  and  was  soon  afterward  made  Bachelor  of 
Divinity,  and  appointed  Chaplain  to  the  Council  of  Wittenberg.  During 
these  years  he  had  been  passing  through  strong  spiritual  conflicts;  and 
his  close  study  of  the  Scriptures  as  a  whole  had  given  him  new  views  of 
life  and  duty,  and  inspired  his  preaching  with  earnestness  and  power. 
His  visit  to  Rome,  with  its  revelation  of  the  abuses  of  the  Papacy;  his 
encounter  with  Tetzel's  doctrine  of  indulgences;  his  burning  of  the  Papal 
bull  in  1520;  his  summons  to  the  Diet  at  Worms;  his  final  rejection  of 
monasticism  in  1524,  and  marriage  in  1525;  and  the  wonderful  work 
which  he  accomplished  in  establishing  and  extending  the  Protestant 
movement,  by  tongue  and  pen,  by  hymn  and  treatise,  and  translation  of 
the  Scriptures,  —  are  matters  too  familiar  to  require  recapitulation.  His 
later  years  were  years  of  comparative  quiet,  but  of  unceasing  activity; 
and  his  death,  on  Feb.  18,  1546,  was  serene  and  jubilant.  The  following 
is  based  upon  a  Latin  hymn  of  the  fifteenth  century:  the  translation  into 
English  is  by  Miss  Catherine  Winkworth. 


N  the  bonds  of  Death  He  lay 
Who  for  our  offence  was  slain 
But  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day  ; 
Christ  hath  brought  us  life  asrain. 


IN   THE  BONDS  OF  DEATH  HE   LAY.     [21 

Wherefore  let  us  all  rejoice, 
Singing  loud  with  cheerful  voice, — 
Hallelujah! 

Of  the  sons  of  men  was  none 

Who  could  break  the  bonds  of  Death  : 
Sin  this  mischief  dire  had  done; 

Innocent  was  none  on  earth  : 
Wherefore  Death  grew  strong  and  bold, 
Would  all  men  in  his  prison  hold: 
Hallelujah! 

Jesus  Christ,  God's  only  Son, 

Came  at  last  our  toe  to  smite  ; 
All  our  sins  away  hath  done, 

Done  away  Death's  power  and  right. 
Only  the  form  of  Death  is  left; 
Of  his  sting  he  is  bereft : 

Hallelujah  ! 

That  was  a  wondrous  war,  I  trow, 

When  Life  and  Death  together  fought  : 

But  Life  hath  triumphed  o'er  his  foe  ; 
Death  is  mocked,  and  set  at  nought  ; 

'Tis  even  as  the  Scripture  saith, — 

Christ  through  death  has  conquered  Death  : 
Hallelujah  ! 


122  TV   THE   BONDS   OF  DEATH  HE   LAY. 

The  rightful  Paschal  Lamb  is  He, 
On  whom  alone  we  all  must  live, 

Who  to  death  upon  the  tree 

Himself  in  wondrous  love  did  give. 

Faith  strikes  His  blood  upon  the  door  ; 

Death  sees,  and  dares  not  harm  us  more 
Hallelujah  ! 

Let  us  keep  high  festival 

On  this  most  blessed  day  of  days, 
When  God  His  mercy  showed  to  all ! 

Our  Sun  is  risen  with  brightest  rays, 
And  our  dark  hearts  rejoice  to  see 
Sin  and  night  before  Him  flee  : 
Hallelujah! 

To  the  Supper  of  the  Lord 
Gladly  will  we  come  to-day  : 

The  word  of  peace  is  now  restored, 
The  old  leaven  is  put  away. 

Christ  will  be  our  food  alone  ; 

Faith  no  life  but  His  doth  own  : 
Hallelujah ! 


ERE  DAWN  HAS  FILLED  THE  SKIES.    I  23 


Err  get  tljr  Dabm  Ijns  ftllrti  tljr  Shirs. 


By  JOHANM   HeBRMAN,   translated  by  Miss  WlNKWORTH.      Heerman 
T-n  at  Rantcn,  in  Silesia,  in   15S5;    and  became  early  distinguished 

-  bolar,  and  a  writer  of  Latin  verses  He  received  the  In 
Kohen,  and  retained  it  during  tne  terrible  suffering  and  devastation  which 
the  Thirty  Years'  War  entailed  upon  Silesia.  He  was  often  in  dai 
his  life  trom  the  Jesuit*,  and  was  several  times  compelled  to  flee;  but  in 
the  midst  of  these  troubled  and  tempestuous  times  he  wrote  and  published 
three  volumes  of  hymns,  distinguished  for  earnestness,  tenderness,  and 
fervor.  A  large  number  of  them  have  found  a  permanent  place  in  Ger- 
man hymnology,  and  several  have  been  translated  into  English.  Worn 
out  with  conflict  and  sorrow,  Heerman  died  in  1047. 


RE  yet  the  dawn  has  filled  the  skies, 
Behold  my  Saviour  Christ  arise  ! 
He  chaseth  from  us  sin  and  night, 
And  brings  us  joy  and  life  and  light  : 
Hallelujah!   Hallelujah! 

O  stronger  Thou  than  Death  and  Hell  ! 
Where  is  the  foe  thou  canst  not  quell  ? 
What  heavy  stone  Thou  canst  not  roll 
From  off  the  prisoned,  anguished  soul  ? 
Hallelujah  !   Hallelujah  ! 


If  Jesus  lives,  can  I  be  sad  ? 

I  know  he  loves  me,  and  am  glad  ! 


I  24   ERE  DA  WN  HAS  FILLED  THE  SKIES. 

Though  all  the  world  were  dead  to  me, 
Enough,  0  Christ,  if  I  have  Thee  ! 
Hallelujah!   Hallelujah! 

He  feeds  me,  comforts  and  defends, 
And,  when  I  die,  His  angel  sends 
To  bear  me  whither  He  is  gone  ; 
For  of  His  own  He  loseth  none  : 
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 
• 

Xo  more  to  fear  or  grief  I  bow  : 
God  and  the  angels  love  me  now : 
The  joys  prepared  for  me  to-day 
Drive  fear  and  mourning  far  away : 
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 

Strong  Champion  !     For  this  comfort  see 
The  whole  world  brings  her  thanks  to  Thee  ; 
And  once  we,  too,  shall  raise  above 
More  sweet  and  loud  the  song  of  love  : 
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 


O   DARKEST   WOE  ! 


I  2< 


O  Darkest  Mod 


By  1607;    died  in  1667. 

ther  was  a  clergyman,  and  he  w.!s  destined  from  the  first  for  the 

study  of  theology.     Hew;  is  and 

varied  talent;  and  when  he  rerun  y  in  the  uni- 

versities, and  travel  abroad,  he  had  already  acquired  a  reputaboi 

t.     He  was  ted  to  a  church  jusl 

[amburg,  and  there  spent  the  remainder  of  his  life.  He  was  an  ac- 
tive pastor  and  a  great  preacher,  a  very  strict  Lutheran  in  doctn 
more  given  to  preaching  against  sin  than  against  heresy.  He  pul 
no  less  than  ten  collections  of  religious  poems  and  hymns,  containing  be- 
tween six  hundred  and  seven  hundred  pieces.  Many  are  of  indifferent 
merit,  but  some  belong  to  the  first  rank  of  hymns.  He  was  crowned 
poet-laureate  by  the  Emperor,  and  received  a  patent  of  nobility.  Some 
of  his  contemporaries  praised  him  as  the  Northern  Apollo;  and  his  hymns 
were  eagerly  caught  up,  and  quickly  adopted  for  congregational  use  in 
evangelical  Germany.  Even  among  Roman  Catholics  they  were  read 
with  delight.  The  hymn  which  follows  was  written  for  Easter  Eve.  The 
translation  is  by  Miss  Winkworth. 


DARKEST  woe! 
Ye  tears,  forth  flow  ! 

Has  earth  so  sad  a  wonder  ? 
God  the  Father's  only  Son 

Now  lies  buried  yonder. 


O  son  of  man  ! 

It  was  the  ban 
Of  death  on  thee  that  brought  Him 

Down  to  suffer  for  thy  sins, 
And  such  woe  hath  wrought  Him. 


126  0  DARKEST   WOE  I 

Behold,  thy  Lord, 

The  Lamb  of  God, 
Blood-sprinkled  lies  before  thee, 
Pouring  out  His  life,  that  He 
May  to  life  restore  thee  ! 

O  ground  of  faith, 

Laid  low  in  death  ! 
Sweet  lips  now  silent  sleeping ! 

Surely  all  that  live  must  mourn 
Here  with  bitter  weeping. 

Yea,  blest  is  he 
Whose  heart  shall  be 

Fixed  here  ;  who  apprehendeth 
Why  the  Lord  of  Glory  thus 

To  the  grave  descendeth. 

O  Jesu  blest, 

My  help  and  rest ! 
With  tears  I  pray,  Lord,  hear  me  : 
Make  me  love  Thee  to  the  last, 
And  in  death  be  near  me. 


JESUS  MY  REDEEMER  LIVES  I  -V 


Scstts  mu  Ixctirrmcr  libcs. 


By  Louisa  Hrmwhtta,  wife  of  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  bora  in 

1628;  died  in  1077.  She  lived  in  a  stormy  and  tragic  time;  but  her  char- 
acter is  one  of  the  noblest  examples  of  Christian  womanhood  that  history 
pre>ent>.  She  was  her  husband's  adviser  in  affairs  ol  state,  fostered  agri- 
culture by  «Hse  measures,  founded  primary  schools  all  over  the  country, 
and  won  the  love  of  her  people  by  many  acts  of  public  and  private  charity. 
Many  sweet  and  thoughtful  hymns  attest  the  depth  and  earnestness  of  her 
.s  nature.  That  which  follows  ranks  to  this  day  among  the  most 
popular  of  German  hymns.  The  translation  is  by  Miss  Wink  worth. 
There  is  another  translation,  by  Mrs.  Charles,  beginning,  "  Je^us,  my 
eternal  trust  and  my  Saviour,  ever  liveth." 


ESUS  my  Redeemer  lives, 

Christ  my  trust  is  dead  no  more  : 
In  the  strength  this  knowledge  gives, 
Shall  not  all  my  fears  be  o'er,  — 
Calm,    though    death's    long    night    be 

fraught 
Still  with  many  an  anxious  thought  ? 

Jesus  my  Redeemer  lives, 

And  His  life  I  once  shall  see  : 

Bright  the  hope  this  promise  gives,  — 
Where  He  is,  I  too  shall  be. 

Shall  I  fear,  then  ?     Can  the  Head 

Rise,  and  leave  the  members  dead  ? 


128  JESUS  MY  REDEEMER  LIVES. 

Close  to  Him  my  soul  is  bound, 
In  the  bonds  of  Hope  inclasped  ; 

Faith's  strong  hand  this  hold  hath  found, 
And  the  Rock  hath  firmly  grasped. 

Death  shall  ne'er  my  soul  remove 

From  her  refuge  in  Thy  love. 

I  shall  see  Him  with  these  eyes,  — 
Him  whom  I  shall  surely  know; 

Not  another  shall  I  rise  : 

With  His  love  this  heart  shall  glow  ; 

Only  there  shall  disappear 

Weakness  in  and  round  me  here. 

Ye  who  suffer,  sigh,  and  moan, 

Fresh  and  glorious  there  shall  reign  : 

Earthly  here  the  seed  is  sown, 
Heavenly  it  shall  rise  again  ; 

Natural  here  the  death  we  die, 

Spiritual  our  life  on  high. 

Body,  be  thou  of  good  cheer, 
In  thy  Saviour's  care  rejoice ; 

Give  not  place  to  gloom  and  fear : 
Dead,  thou  yet  shalt  know  His  voice, 

When  the  final  trump  is  heard, 

And  the  deaf,  cold  grave  is  stirred. 


SO   REST,   MY  Rl  1 2Q 

Laugh  to  scorn,  then,  death  and  hell  ; 
I.  iiigh  to  scorn  the  gloomy  gravi  : 

Caught  into  the  air  to  dwell 

With  the  Lord  who  conies  to  save, 
We  shall  trample  on  our  foes, 
Mortal  weakness,  fear,  and  woes. 

Only  see  ye  that  your  heart 

Rise  betimes  from  earthly  lust  : 

Would  ye  there  with  Him  have  part, 
Here  obey  your  Lord,  and  trust ; 

Fix  your  hearts  beyond  the  skies, 

Whither  ye  yourselves  would  rise. 


So  Rest,  mo  llrst. 


By  Solomon  Frank.     Born  at  Weimar  March  6,  1659:    died  June 
11,  1725.     He  was  the  author  of  three  hundred  hymns,  of  which  the   lol- 
g  — one   of  seven  Passion  Hymns  —  is  among  the  best.     There  is 
r  translation,  by  Miss  Wink  worth,  in  '*  Lyra  Germanica." 


*0  rest,  my  Rest, 
Forever  blest, 


Thy  grave  with  sinners  making  ; 
By  Thy  precious  death  from  sin 
My  dead  soul  awaking  ! 


130  SO   REST,   MY  REST. 

Here  hast  Thou  lain, 
After  much  pain, 
Life  of  my  life,  reposing  : 
Round  Thee  now  a  rock-hewn  grave, 
Rock  of  ages,  closing. 

Breath  of  all  breath, 

I  know,  from  death, 
Thou  wilt  my  dust  awaken  : 
Wherefore  should  I  dread  the  grave, 
Or  my  faith  be  shaken  ? 

To  me  the  tomb 

Is  but  a  room 
Where  I  lie  clown  on  roses  : 
Who  by  death  hath  conquered  death, 
Sweetly  there  reposes. 

The  body  dies 
(Nought  else),  and  lies 

In  dust,  until  victorious 
From  the  grave  it  shall  arise, 

Beautiful  and  glorious. 

Meantime  I  will, 

My  Jesus,  still 
Deep  in  my  bosom  lay  Thee, 
Musing  on  Thy  death  :   in  death 
Be  with  me,  I  pray  Thee. 


O  RISEN  LORD  I   0  CONQUERING  KING  I   13  r 


O  -Risen  lorti !    O  (Conquering  lAing ! 

By  Dr.  Justus  II    B   bhmbr,  a  odebrated  jurist,  who  was  horn  ;it 

.  i  died  at  Halle  in  174^.     The  translation  i>  by  Miss 

Catherine  Winkwokth,  and   is  contained  in  the  m  of  the 

"  Lyra  ( jerin.iniea." 

RISEN  Lord!  O  conquering  King! 

O  Life  of  all  that  live! 
To-day  that  peace  of  Easter  bring 

Which  only  Thou  canst  give. 

Once  Death,  our  foe, 

Had  laid  Thee  low  : 
Now  hast  Thou  rent  his  bonds  in  twain; 
Now  art  Thou  risen  Who  once  was  slain. 

The  power  of  Thy  great  majesty 
Bursts  rocks  and  tombs  away  ; 
The  victory  raises  us  with  Thee 
Into  the  glorious  day  : 

Xow  Satan's  might 
And  death's  dark  night 
Have  lost  their  power  this  blessed  morn, 
And  we  to  higher  life  are  born. 

Oh  that  our  hearts  might  inly  know 
Thy  victory  over  death, 


132    O  RISEN  LORD!   O  CONQUERING  KING  I 

And,  gazing  on  Thy  conflict,  glow 
With  eager,  dauntless  faith  ! 

Thy  quenchless  light, 

Thy  glorious  might, 
Still  comfortless  and  lonely  leave 
The  soul  that  cannot  yet  believe. 

Then    break    through    our  hard    hearts   Thy 
way, 
O  Jesus,  conquering  King  ! 
Kindle  the  lamp  of  faith  to-day  ; 
Teach  our  faint  hearts  to  sing 
For  joy  at  length, 
That  in  Thy  strength 
We  too  may  rise,  whom  sin  had  slain, 
And  Thine  eternal  rest  attain. 

And,  when  our  tears  for  sin  o'erflow, 

Do  Thou  in  love  draw  near, 
The  precious  gift  of  peace  bestow, 
Shine  on  us  bright  and  clear ; 
That  so  may  we, 
O  Christ,  from  Thee 
Drink  in  the  life  that  cannot  die, 
And  keep  true  Easter  feasts  on  high. 

Yes,  let  us  truly  know  within 
Thy  rising  from  the  dead  ; 


0  GLORIOUS  HEAD,  THOU UVBST NOW!    I 

And  quit  the  grave  of  death  and  sin  ; 
And  keep  that  gift,  our  Head, 
That  Thou  didst  leave 

For  all  who  cleave 
To  Thee  through  all  this  earthly  strife  : 
So  shall  we  enter  into  lite. 


©  Glorious  Jjcab,  Cfjoit  Itbrst  nofo 


By  Gerhard  Tersteegen,  born  at  Mors  in  Westphalia  in  1697; 
died  in  1769.  He  was  the  son  of  a  tradesman,  and,  when  a  young  man, 
supported  himself  for  some  years  by  weaving  silk;  leading  meanwhile  a 
life  of  meditation,  and  of  almost  entire  seclusion  from  the  world.  1 
ing  a  nature  of  singular  spirituality  and  great  benevolence,  he  was  early 
led  to  undertake  a  kind  oi  informal  ministry,  — laboring  among  the  poor, 
addressing  religious  meetings,  and  publishing  many  hymns  and  devotional 
books.  His  health  was  always  delicate,  and  he  suffered  many  privations; 
but  his  life  was  long  and  useful,  and  he  was  greatly  beloved  He 
mystic  of  the  purest  type,  and  never  connected  himself  with  any  religious 
sect.     The  following  translation  is  by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


GLORIOUS  Head,  Thou  livest  now ! 
Let  us  Thy  members  share  Thy  life. 
Canst  Thou  behold  their  need,  nor  bow 
To  raise  Thy  children  from  the  strife 
With    self    and    sin,    with    death    and    dark 

distress, 
That  they  may  live  to  Thee  in  holiness 


134   O  GLORIOUS  HEAD,   THOU  LIVEST  NOW! 

Earth  knows  Thee  not ;  but  evermore 
Thou  livest  in  Paradise,  in  peace  : 

Thither  my  soul  would  also  soar  ; 
Let  me  from  all  the  creatures  cease : 

Dead  to  the  world,  but  to  Thy  Spirit  known, 

I  live  to  Thee,  O  Prince  of  life,  alone  ! 

Break  through  my  bonds,  whatever  it  cost ; 

What  is  not  Thine  within  me  slay  ; 
Give  me  the  lot  I  covet  most, — 

To  rise  as  Thou  hast  risen  to-day. 
Nought  can  I  do  ;  a  slave  to  death  I  pine  : 
Work  Thou  in  me,  O  Power  and  Life  Divine  ! 

Work  Thou  in  me,  and  heavenward  guide 
My  thoughts  and  wishes,  that  my  heart 

Waver  no  more,  nor  turn  aside, 
But  fix  forever  where  Thou  art : 

Thou  art  not  far  from  us  :  who  love  Thee  well, 

While  yet  on  earth,  in  heaven  with  Thee  may 
dwell. 


JESUS  LIVES:    NO  LONGER  NOW.      135 


3egus  ILtbrs:  no  longer  noto. 


By  Christian*  Furchtegott  Grllert,  born  in  171 5,  in  Saxony; 
died  in  1769.  His  father  was  a  poet  and  a  minister;  and  the  son  inherited 
from  him  a  devout,  religious  nature,  and  rare  poetical  gifts.  He  I 
and  lectured  upon  Poetry  and  Eloquence,  and  is  regarded  as  the  head  of 
a  new  didactic  school  of  German  hymn-writers.  The  translation  is  by 
[ZABBTH  Cox,  who,  next  to  Miss  Winkworth,  is  the  most 
successful  translator  of  German  hymns. 


ESUS  lives  :  no  longer  now 

Can  thy  terrors,  Death,  appall  me. 
Jesus  lives  :  by  this  I  know, 
From  the  grave  He  will  recall  me. 
Brighter  scenes  at  death  commence  : 
This  shall  be  my  confidence. 

Jesus  lives  !  to  Him  the  throne 

High  o'er  heaven  and  earth  is  given  : 

I  may  go  where  He  is  gone, 

Live  and  reign  with  Him  in  Heaven. 

God  through  Christ  forgives  offence  : 

This  shall  be  my  confidence. 

Jesus  lives  !     Who  now  despairs 

Spurns  the  Word  which  God  hath   spoken  : 


I36      JESUS  LIVES:    NO  LONGER  NOW. 

Grace  to  all  that  Word  declares, 

Grace  whereby  sin's  yoke  is  broken. 
Christ  rejects  not  penitence : 
This  shall  be  my  confidence. 

Jesus  lives  !  for  me  He  died  : 
Hence  will  I,  to  Jesus  living, 

Pure  in  heart  and  act  abide, 

Praise  to  Him,  and  glory,  giving. 

Freely  God  doth  aid  dispense  : 

This  shall  be  my  confidence. 

Jesus  lives  !  my  heart  knows  well, 

Nought  from  me  His  Love  shall  sever; 

Life,  nor  death,  nor  powers  of  hell, 
Part  me  now  from  Christ  forever. 

God  will  be  a  sure  Defence  : 

This  shall  be  my  confidence. 

Jesus  lives  !  henceforth  is  death 
Entrance-gate  of  life  immortal : 

This  shall  calm  my  trembling  breath 
When  I  pass  its  gloomy  portal. 

Faith  shall  cry,  as  fails  each  sense,  — 

Lord,  Thou  art  my  Confidence. 


RISE  AGAIN!     YESt   RIS& 


IUst  again!   ucs,  rise  again  totlt  tlioiu 


By  Fribdrich  Gottlieb  Klopstock,  born  at  Quedlinburg  in 

died  in  1803  His  is  one  iA  the  greatest  names  in  German  literature. 
When  a  hoy.  he  solemnly  resolved  that  he  would  produce  some  great  work 
that  should  <-\o  his  country  honor;  and  as  early  as  the  age  of  twenty-one 
he  conceived  the  idea  o\  lu>  great  epic,  the  "  Messiah."  In  174S,  through 
solicitation  o\  some  friends,  who  by  accident  discovered  the  manuscript, 
the  first  three  cantos  of  the  "  Messiah  "  were  published;  and  these,  with 
Some  odes  printed  at  the  same  time,  made  him  instantly  famous  through- 
out Germany.  Seven  cantos  more  were  published  before  1754;  but  domes- 
tic affliction  interfered  with  the  work,  and  for  nine  or  ten  years  he  pub- 
lished only  minor  religious  poems.  In  177;  the  "Messiah"  was  at 
last  completed,  and  in  the  same  year  a  complete  edition  o\  his  odes  and 
lyrics  was  brought  out.  klopstock  was  an  ardent  patriot,  and  a  profound 
scholar;  and  the  reverence  paid  to  him  in  Germany  was  not  unlike  that 
enjoyed  by  Or.  Johnson  in  England.  His  character  was  singularly  pure 
and  amiable,  and  his  bearing  was  marked  by  courtliness  and  dig 
His  ••  Messiah  "  is  a  daring  and  sublime  production,  embracing  an  infinite 
variety  o{  spectators  and  actors,  and  having  its  scene  laid  sometimes  in 
the  highest  heaven.  He  wrote  several  scriptural  dramas,  and  man] 
hymns,  and  lyrics.  The  following  hymn  is  very  commonly  used  at  funer- 
als or  at  Easter  services.  The  translation  is  by  Mk<  WlNKWORTH. 
There  is  a  more  literal  version  by  Alfred  Baskerville,  "  Arise.  y< 
arise  again,  0  thou  my  dust!  " 


IJISE  again!  yes,  rise  again  wilt  thou, 
^        My  dust,  though  buried  now  ! 
To  life  Immortal 
Is  this  brief  rest  the  portal  : 
Hallelujah  ! 


138   RISE  AGAIN!     YES,    RISE  AGAIN. 

For  the  seed  is  sown,  again  to  bloom, 
Whene'er  the  Lord  shall  come, 

His  harvest  reaping 
In  us  who  now  are  sleeping : 
Hallelujah.' 

Day  of  praise,  of  joyful  tears  the  Day,  — 
Thou  of  my  God  the  Day,  — 

When  I  shall  number 
My  destined  years  of  slumber, 
Thou  wakenest  me  ! 

Then  shall  we  be  like  to  those  that  dream, 
When  on  us  breaks  the  beam 

Of  that  blest  morrow  : 
The  weary  pilgrim's  sorrow 
Is  then  no  more. 

Then  the  Saviour  leads  us,  of  His  grace, 
Into  the  Holiest  Place, 

Where  we  forever 
Shall  praise  His  name  who  doth  deliver  ! 
Hallelujah  ! 


11 A 1. 1.  EL  l  "JA  ii '   JESl  :s  l,  1 1  ES  '. 


'39 


5?aUrlttjal) !   3csus  librs  ! 


By  Christian  Garvb,  who  was  born  at  Breslau,  Jan.  7,  1742;  studied 

at  Frankfort  and  Halle;  in  1769  .succeeded  Ocllert  as  Professor  of   I 

ophy  at  Letpsic;  ami  died  Dec  1,  1798.  He  was  a  man  of  amiable  man- 
ner^, and  of  good  repute  as  a  philosophical  writer.  From  his  very  death- 
bed he  dictated  an  e>3ay  on  Patience.  The  translation  which  follows  is 
by  the  compilers  of  "  Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther."  These  admira- 
ble volumes  are  the  joint  work  of  two  Asters,  Mi--  Jane  B ^kthwick  and 
Mrx  Fkic  Findlater,  who  are  descendants  from  an  old  Scottish  family. 


ALLELUJAH  !     Jesus  lives  ! 
He  is  now  the  Living  One. 
From  the  gloomy  house  of  death 
Forth  the  Conqueror  has  gone, 
Bright  forerunner  to  the  skies 
Of  His  people  yet  to  rise. 

Jesus  lives  !  let  all  rejoice  ! 

Praise  Him,  ransomed  ones  of  earth  ; 
Praise  Him,  in  a  nobler  song, 

Cherubim  of  heavenly  birth  ; 
Praise  the  Victor  King,  whose  sway 
Sin  and  death  and  hell  obey. 


Jesus  lives  !  why  weepest  thou  ? 
Why  that  sad  and  frequent  sigh  ? 


140  HALLELUJAH!    JESUS  LIVES  I 

He  who  died  our  Brother  here 

Lives  our  Brother  still  on  high,  — 
Lives  forever,  to  bestow 
Blessings  on  His  Church  below. 

Jesus  lives  !  and  thus,  my  soul, 
Life  eternal  waits  for  thee  : 

Joined  to  Him,  thy  Living  Head, 
Where  He  is,  thou  too  shalt  be  ; 

With  Himself,  at  His  right  hand, 

Victor  over  death  shalt  stand. 

Jesus  lives  !     To  Him  my  heart 
Draws  with  ever-new  delight : 

Earthly  vanities,  depart  ! 

Hinder  not  my  heavenward  flight  ! 

Let  this  spirit  ever  rise 

To  its  magnet  in  the  skies. 

Hallelujah!  angels,  sing; 

Join  us  in  our  hymn  of  praise  ; 
Let  your  chorus  swell  the  strain 

Which  our  feebler  voices  raise  ; 
Glory  to  our  God  above, 
And  on  earth  His  peace  and  love  ! 


CHRIST  HATH  ARISEN  I  \.\\ 


Cririst  Imtli  Arisen! 


ByJoHANN  W  erman  poets, 

born  .n  Frankfort-on-the-Main  in  17 

died  in  March,  183a.  Hi>  singularly  active  and  fruitful  mind  was  equally 
at  home  in  literature  and  philosophy,  in  science  and  art:  and  I 
body  of  his  published  works  might  almost  be  said  to  constitute  a  literature 
in  themselves.  The  following  is  the  famous  "  Chorus  of  the  Ai 
from  "  Faust."  The  translation  is  by  Rev.  Frederic  H.  Hedge,  1>.I>., 
who  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Dee.  12,  1S05;  graduated  at  Harvard  Col- 
lege in  1825;  was  educated  for  the  Unitarian  ministry;  rilled  pastorates 
at  West  Can  -.  Providence,  and    Brookline;   and  since  1872 

has  held  the  Professorship  of  German  Literature  at  Harvard.  Bayard 
Taylor  remarked  of  this  chorus,  that  it  is  a  stumbling-block  to  the  trans- 
lator, on  account  of  the  fivefold  dactylic  rhyme;  and  added,  "  I>r.  Hedge, 
I  believe,  is  the  only  one  who  has  hitherto  endeavored  to  reproduce  the 
difficult  structure  of  this  chorus." 


AN'GELS. 

[IHRIST  hath  arisen  ! 
Joy  to  our  buried  Head  ! 
Whom  the  unmerited, 
Trailing  inherited 
Woes,  did  imprison  ! 

WOMEN. 

Costly  devices 

We  had  prepared,  — 
Shrouds  and  sweet  spices, 

Linen  and  nard. 


142  CHRIST  HATH  ARISEN  I 

Woe  the  disaster  ! 

Whom  we  here  laid, 
Gone  is  the  Master, 

Empty  His  bed. 


ANGELS. 

Christ  hath  arisen 
Loving  and  glorious  : 
Out  of  laborious 
Conflict  victorious 

Christ  hath  arisen. 


DISCIPLES. 

Hath  the  inhumated, 

Upward  aspiring, 
Hath  He  consummated 

All  His  desiring  ? 
Is  He  in  benign  bliss, 

Near  to  creative  joy  ? 
Wearily  we  in  this 

Earthly  house  sigh  ; 
Empty  and  hollow,  us 

Left  He  unblest. 
Master,  Thy  followers 

Envy  Thy  rest. 


BRIGHTL  Y  GLOWS  THE  MORNING  RED!   143 

ANGELS. 

Christ  hath  arisen 

(  hit  of  corruption's  womb, 
Burst  every  prison  ! 

Vanish  death's  gloom  ! 
Active  in  charity, 
Praise  I  lim  in  verity  ! 
His  feast,  prepare  it  ye  ! 
His  message,  bear  it  ye  ! 
His  joy,  declare  it  ye  ! 

Then  is  the  Master  near, 

Then  is  He  here. 


51)oii3  Imgljtlu  glotos  tijr  fHonunvj  rcU 


Translated  from  the  hymn-book  of  the  Diocese  of  Treves,  by  Rich- 
ard Frederick  Littledale. 


!0\V  brightly  glows  the  morning  red  ! 

\  Our  Lite  hath  conquered,  Death  hath 
fled. 

The  tomb  is  void,  the  warders  foiled, 
The  Heavens  exult,  and  hell  is  spoiled. 
The  whole  creation's  wide  expanse 
Joys  in  its  risen  Saviour's  glance  ; 


144    BRIGHTLY  GLOWS  THE  MORNING  RED! 

For  He,  Who  dead  and  buried  lay, 

Hath  cast  the  cords  of  death  away. 

His  sacred  wounds  are  gleaming  bright, 

And  choirs  of  Angels  in  the  height 

Upon  the  clouds  of  purple  rest, 

To  watch  that  resurrection  blest. 

Before  the  rising  of  the  sun, 

The  women  to  the  tomb  are  gone ; 

And  store  of  spices  with  them  bring, 

To  grace  the  Body  of  the  King. 

And  lo  !  beside  the  open  grave, 

A  white-robed  Angel  tidings  gave,  — 

Why  seek  ye  Him  among  the  dead  ? 

He  hath  arisen,  and  forth  is  sped. 

Our  eyes  have  seen,  our  tongues  shall  tell, 

That  Christ  hath  conquered  death  and  hell ; 

The  night  of  sin  is  done  away, 

And  Judah's  Lion  wins  the  day. 

Thy  conquest  is  our  faith.  O  Lord  ! 

For  evermore  endures  Thy  word  : 

Believing  thus,  in  hope  we  die, 

To  live  m  Thee  for  aye  on  high. 


/  SAY   TO  ALL  MEN,  FAR  AND  NEAR.    !.(5 


E  gag  to  all  fHrn,  JFar  an)  Near. 

}'>v    l  : ::;  .  ;  :,  h  better  known    by   hi*    bteraiy 

\i.is.     He  was  born  in  Pn 
studied  at  Leipsic  ai  He  wrote  one  or  two  ron 

volume  ofhynuis,  and  is  characterised 
idealists  "     His  Literary  a<  dvity  was  cut  short  by  bis  early  d< 
sumption,  March  19,  1801.     The  following  translation  is  by  Miss   Wink- 
worth 

ijqf]  SAY  to  all  men,  far  and  near, 
That  He  is  risen  again  ; 
That  He  is  with  us,  now  and  here, 
And  ever  shall  remain. 


And  what  I  say,  let  each  this  morn 

Go  tell  it  to  his  friend,  — 
That  soon  in  every  place  shall  dawn 

His  kingdom  without  end. 

Now  first  to  souls  who  thus  awake 

Seems  earth  a  fatherland  : 
A  new  and  endless  life  they  take 

With  rapture  from  His  hand. 

The  fears  of  death  and  of  the  grave 
Are  whelmed  beneath  the  sea  ; 

And  every  heart,  now  light  and  brave, 
May  face  the  things  to  be. 


I46   /  SAY    TO   ALL    MEN,  FAR    AXD   XEAR. 

The  way  cf  darkness,  that  He  trod, 
To  heaven  at  last  shall  come  ; 

And  he  who  hearkens  to  His  word 
Shall  reach  His  Father's  home. 

Now  let  the  mourner  grieve  no  more, 

Though  his  beloved  sleep  : 
A  happier  meeting  shall  restore 

Their  light  to  eyes  that  weep. 

Now  every  heart  each  noble  deed 
With  new  resolve  may  dare  : 

A  glorious  harvest  shall  the  seed 
In  happier  regions  bear. 

He  lives  :  His  presence  hath  not  ceased, 
Though  foes  and  fears  be  rife ; 

And  thus  we  hail,  in  Easter's  feast, 
A  world  renewed  to  life ! 


SHINE  FORTH  IN  ALL   THY  SPLENDOR.   147 


Sun,  sijtnr  forth  in  all  tiju  Splcntoor. 

ia,  born  at    I  pt.  28, 

1859.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Gottingen,  and  a  minister 
of  the  Lutheran  Church.  Hi>  character  was  marked  by  simplicity  and 
gentleness,   and   his   ministry  wa>   earnest  and   zeal  ons  — 

ever  one  hundred  in  number — enjoy  a  great  popularity  in  Germany. 
They  have  been  translated  into  English  by  Mr.  RlCHARD  MASSIE,  in 
the  "  Lyra  Domestica." 

UN,  shine  forth  in  all  thy  splendor; 
Joyfully  pursue  thy  way  : 
S  For  thy  Lord  and  my  Defender 
Rose  triumphant  on  this  day. 
When  He  bowed  His  head,  sore  troubled, 

Thou  didst  hide  thyself  in  night  : 
Shine  forth  now  with  rays  redoubled  ; 
He  is  risen  Who  is  thy  light. 

Earth,  be  joyous  and  glad-hearted  ; 

Spread  out  all  thy  vernal  bloom  : 
For  thy  Lord  is  not  departed  ; 

He  has  broken  through  the  tomb. 
When  the  Lord  expired,  wide-yawning, 

Thy  strong  rocks  were  rent  with  fright  : 
Greet  thy  risen  Lord  this  morning. 

Bathed  in  floods  of  rosy  light 


148   SHINE  FORTH  IN  ALL   THY  SPLENDOR. 

Say,  my  soul,  what  preparation 

Makest  thon  for  this  high  day, 
When  the  God  of  thy  salvation 

Opened  through  the  tomb  a  way  ? 
Dwellest  thou  with  pure  affection 

On  this  proof  of  power  and  love  ? 
Doth  thy  Saviour's  resurrection 

Raise  thy  thoughts  to  things  above  ? 

Hast  thou,  borne  on  Faith's  strong  pinion, 

Risen  with  the  risen  Lord, 
And,  released  from  sin's  dominion, 

Into  purer  regions  soared  ? 
Or  art  thou,  in  spite  of  warning, 

Dead  in  trespasses  and  sin  ? 
Hath  to  thee  the  purple  morning 

No  true  Easter  ushered  in  ? 

Oh,  then,  let  not  death  o'ertake  thee 

By  the  shades  of  night  o'erspread  ! 
See  !  thy  Lord  has  come  to  wake  thee  ; 

He  is  risen  from  the  dead. 
While  the  time  as  yet  allows  thee, 

Hear  :  the  gracious  Saviour  cries,  — 
"  Sleeper,  from  thy  sloth  arouse  thee ; 

To  new  life  at  once  arise  ! " 

See,  with  looks  of  tender  pity, 
He  extends  His  wounded  hands, 


SHINE  FORTH  IN  ALL   THY  SPLENDOR.    [49 

Bidding  thee,  with  fond  entreaty, 

Shake  ofl  .sin's  inthralling  bands  :  — 
"Wait  not  for  some  future  meeti 

Dread  no  punishment  from  me  : 
Rouse  thyself,  and  taste  the  sweetm 
Of  the  new  life  offered  thee." 

Let  no  precious  time  be  wasted  ; 

To  new  life  arise  at  length  : 

He  who  death  for  thee  hath  tasted, 
For  new  life  will  give  new  strength. 

Try  to  rise  ;  at  once  bestir  thee  ; 
Still  press  on,  and  persevere  ; 

Let  no  weariness  deter  thee  ; 
He  Who  woke  thee  still  is  near. 

Waste  not  so  much  time  in  weighing 

When  and  where  thou  shalt  begin  : 
Too  much  thinking  is  delaying, 

Rivets  but  the  chain  of  sin. 
He  will  help  thee,  and  provide  thee 

With  a  courage  not  thine  own, 
Bear  thee  in  His  arms,  and  guide  thee, 

Till  thou  learn'st  to  walk  alone. 

See  !  thy  Lord  Himself  is  risen, 
That  thou  mightest  also  rise, 

And  emerge  from  sin's  dark  prison 
To  new  life  and  open  skies. 


150  LAMB,    THE    ONCE    CRUCIFIED! 

Come  to  Him  who  can  unbind  thee, 
And  reverse  thy  awful  doom  ; 

Come  to  Him,  and  leave  behind  thee 
Thy  old  life,  —  an  empty  tomb  ! 


iamb,  tijc  ©ncr  Cructft'rtr ! 

By  Mrs.  Pr  Meta  Heusser-Schweizer,  whom  Dr.  Schaff  ranks 
as  the  most  gifted  and  sweetest  of  female  poets  in  the  German  tongue. 
She  was  born  in  1797  near  Zurich,  Switzerland,  and  in  1868  was  still  living 
there.  The  following  sublime  hymn  was  composed  in  1831 ;  and  the  trans- 
lation —  a  singularly  successful  one  —  was  contributed  by  Professor  Thom- 
as C.  Porter  of  Lafayette  College  to  Dr.  Schaff 's  collection,  "  Christ 
in  Song." 

JAMB,   the   once    crucified!    Lion,  by 
triumph  surrounded  ! 
Victim    all    bloody,    and    Hero,    who 
hell  hast  confounded  ! 
Pain-riven  Heart, 
That  from  earth's  deadliest  smart 
O'er  all  the  heavens  hast  bounded!  — 

Thou  in  the  depths  wert  to  mortals  the  highest 

revealing, 
God  in  humanity  veiled,  Thy  full  glory  con- 
cealing ! 
"  Worthy  art  Thou  !  " 
Shouteth  Eternity  now, 
Praise  to  Thee  endlessly  pealing. 


LAMB,    THE   ONC&   CRUCIFIED!         \$\ 

Heavenly  Love,  in  the  language  of  earth  past 

expression  ! 
Lord  of  all  worlds,  unto  whom  every  tongue 
owes  confession  ! 
Didst  Thou  not  go, 
And,  under  sentence  of  woe, 
Rescue  the  doomed  by  transgression  ? 

(  >'er  the  abyss  of   the  grave,  and   its  horrors 

infernal, 
Victory's  palm  Thou  art  waving  in  triumph 
supernal  : 
Who  to  Thee  cling, 
Circled  by  hope,  shall  now  bring 
Out  of  its  gulf  life  eternal. 

Son  of   man,  Saviour,   in   whom,   with   deep 

tenderness  blending, 
Infinite  Pity  to  wretches  her  balm  is  extend- 
ing, 
On  Thy  dear  breast, 
Weary  and  numb,  they  may  rest, 
Quickened  to  joy  never-ending. 

Strange   condescension!    immaculate    Purity, 

deigning 
Union  with  souls  where  the  vilest  pollution 

is  reigning, 


152  LAMB,    THE    ONCE    CRUCIFIED! 

Beareth  their  sin, 
Seekcth  the  fallen  to  win, 
Even  the  lowest  regaining.   ' 

Sweetly  persuasive,  to  me  too  Thy  call  has 

resounded, 
Melting   my   heart   so    obdurate.       Thy   love 
has  abounded : 
Back  to  the  fold, 
Led  by  Thy  hand,  I  behold 
Grace  all  my  path  has  surrounded. 

Bless  thou  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !    who,  thy 

pardon  assuring, 
Heals  thy  diseases,  and  grants  thee  new  life 
ever  during ; 
Joy  amid  woe, 

Peace  amid  strife  here  below, 
Unto  thee  ever  securing. 

Upward,   on  pinions  celestial,   to  regions  of 

pleasure, 
Into  the  land  whose  bright  glories  no  mortal 
can  measure, 
Strong  hope  and  love 
Bear  Thee,  the  fulness  to  prove 
Of  Thy  salvation's  rich  treasure. 


LA  MI!,    THE    ONCE    CRUCIFIED  I 


:  -> 


There,  as  He   is,  we  shall   view   Him,  with 

rapture  abiding, 
Cheered  even  here  by  His  glance,  when  the 

darkness,  dividing, 

down  a  ray. 
O'er  the  perilous  way 
Thousands  of  wanderers  guiding. 

Join,    0    my    voice!    the    vast    chorus,    with 
trembling  emotion, — 

Chorus  of   saints,  who,   though   sundered   by 
land  and  by  ocean, 

With  sweet  accord 

Praise  the  same  glorious  Lord, 
One  in  their  ceaseless  devotion. 

Break  forth,   O  Nature  !    in  song,  when  the 

spring-tide  is  nighest  ; 
World  that  hast  seen  His  salvation,  no  longer 
thou  sighest ! 
Shout,  starry  train, 
From  your  empyreal  plain,  — 
"  Glorv  to  God  in  the  highest !  " 


154         THE  LORD   OF  LIFE  IS  RISEN! 


ST!re  ILortr  of  life  is  ftisrn! 

By  Dr.  Johann  Peter  Langb,  Professor  at  Bonn,  and  Editor  of  the 
well-known  series  of  Bible  Commentaries.  He  was  born  at  Sonnborn 
April  10,  1S02,  and  entered  the  University  of  Bonn  in  1822.  He  became 
in  1841  Professor  of  Church  History  and  Dogmatics  at  Zurich,  and  in  1854 
Professor  of  Systematic  Theology  at  Bonn,  and  in  i860  Counsellor  of  Con- 
sistory. The  following  translation  is  by  the  late  Dr.  Henry  Harbaigh, 
of  Mercersburg,  Penn.  (died  Dec.  28,  1867),  and  was  contributed  to  Dr. 
Schaff's  "  Christ  in  Song." 

[HE  Lord  of  life  is  risen  ! 

Sing,  Easter  heralds  !  sing  ! 
He  burst  His  rocky  prison  : 
Wide  let  the  triumph  ring. 
Tell  how  the  graves  are  quaking, 
The  saints  their  fetters  breaking  : 
Sing,  heralds  !  Jesus  lives  ! 

In  death  no  longer  lying, 
He  rose,  the  Prince,  to-day  : 

Life  of  the  dead  and  dying, 
He  triumphed  o'er  decay. 

The  Lord  of  Life  is  risen  : 

In  ruin  lies  Death's  prison, 
Its  keeper  bound  in  chains. 

We  hear  in  Thy  blest  greeting,  — 
Salvation's  work  is  done  ! 


THE  LORD  OF  LIFE   IS  RISEN  I        155 

We  worship  Thee,  repeating,  — 

Life  for  the  dead  is  won  ! 
( )  I  lead  of  all  believing  ! 
( )  Joy  of  all  the  grieving 

Unite  us,  Lord,  to  Thee. 

Here  at  Thy  tomb,  O  Jesus, 

How  sweet  the  morning's  breath  ! 

We  hear  in  all  the  breezes,  — 
Where  is  thy  sting,  O  Death  ? 

Dark  Hell  flies  in  commotion  ; 

While,  far  over  earth  and  ocean, 
Loud  Hallelujahs  ring! 

Oh,  publish  this  salvation, 

Ye  heralds,  through  the  earth  ! 

To  every  buried  nation 

Proclaim  the  day  of  birth  ! 

Till,  rising  from  their  slumbers, 

The  countless  heathen  numbers 
Shall  hail  the  risen  light. 

Hail,  hail,  our  Jesus  risen  ! 

Sing,  ransomed  brethren,  sing  ! 
Through  Death's  dark,  gloomy  prison 

Let  Easter  chorals  ring  ; 
Haste,  haste,  ye  captive  legions  ! 
Come  forth  from  sin's  dark  regions; 

In  Jesus'  Kingdom  live. 


156     UP!  SOUND    YOUR   JOYFUL   SONGS. 


2Ep!  souno  your  Sogfttl  &ongs 
Victorious. 

Translated  from  the  German  by  Henry  Thompson,  and  contributed 
to  the  "  Lyra  Messianica." 


P  !  sound  your  joyful  songs  victorious 
And  jubilant  to  Jesus   Christ    to- 
day ! 

Back  to  His  own  he  comes  all-glorious  :    • 
The  grave's  strong  portals  burst  to   make 
Him  way. 
He  sank  below,  in  pain  and  sore  disgrace  : 
He  mounts  above,  His  pathway  Angels  trace. 

Our  God  prevails  !  yes,  fraud  and  malice 
Their  little  day  may  triumph  o'er  the  Just : 

God  gives  them  back  their  poisoned  chalice  ; 
Our  strength   is  He,  our  Helper  and  our 
Trust. 

He  gave  indeed  His  Son  to  mortal  pain  : 

This  day  He  shows  Him  glorified  again. 

Praise,  praise  to  him  !  the  Lord  is  risen  ! 

Now  is  He  Saviour,  Lord,  and  God  indeed  ; 
Redeemer  from  sin's  deadly  prison  ; 

From  death  Redeemer,  and  from  all  our 
need. 


UP!  SOUND    YOUR  JOYFUL   SONGS.     15/ 

The  Father  hath  avouched  Him  His  this  day: 

We  reach  our  country  through  no  other  way. 

Bliss,  bliss,  to  US  !    now  death  hath  o'er  us 
No  power  to  fright ;  to  immortality, 

Though  Earth  her  veil  may  spread  before  us, 
Our  spirits  now  are  consecrate  and  free  : 

Could  Christ  arise  thus  potent  from  the  grave, 

His  flock  shall   rise,  whom  thus  He  died  to 
save. 


Jrom  tl)c  0webiol). 


OUR  PASCHAL  JOY  A  T  LAST  IS  HERE  I    \'">i 


Our  IJasdjal  Sou  at  last  is  rjrrc! 


Translated  from  the  Swedish  of  Laurence  Petersen,  who  wrote  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  by  RlCHARD  Frederick  Littledale,  D.  C.  L. 
I  >r.  Littledale  was  horn  about  1830;    graduated  at  Dublin  University  in 

1855;  was  ordained  deacon  in  1856,  and  priest  in  1857.  He  was  curate  in 
Thorpe  Hamlet  in  1856-7,  and  of  St  Mary-the-Yirgin,  London,  from  1857 
to  1861.  He  has  written  several  scholarly  works  in  prose,  chiefly  on 
ecclesiastical  subjects;  was  the  principal  editor  of  "The  People's  Hym- 
nal; "  and  is  the  author  of  numerous  excellent  translations  of  Latin,  Swed- 
ish, and  German  hymns. 

jlUR  Paschal  joy  at  last  is  here  ! 

We    praise   Thee,  Christ,  Redeemer 
dear  : 

From  death  Thy  servants  Thou  dost  save, 
Thyself  arising  from  the  grave. 

The  Tree  of  Life  its  Fruit  hath  borne,  — 
The  Tree  where  Thou  wast  hung  in  scorn, 
Whereon  Thy  rosy  Blood  was  shed, — 
And  now  we  feed  on  Heavenly  Bread. 

We  praise  Thee,  Jesu  ;  for  Thy  hand 
Hath  freed  us  from  corruption's  band  : 


1 62     OUR  PASCHAL  JOY  AT  LAST  LS  LLERE  ! 

Our  weary  thraldom  now  is  o'er ; 
We  bow  beneath  the  Law  no  more. 

True  Paschal  Lamb,  for  sinners  slain, 
Christ,  free  from  blemish,  pure  from  stain, 
Be  Thou  our  Strength,  our  Food,  our  Life, 
In  all  our  need,  in  all  our  strife. 

Thou  Who  hast  conquered  hell  in  fight, 
We  can  do  all  things  through  Thy  might, — 
Set  free  the  slaves  to  give  Thee  laud, 
And  bring  them  to  the  land  of  God. 

O  risen  Lord  !  grant  us  to  rise, 
As  Thou  hast  done,  in  joyful  wise,  — 
First  for  Thy  work,  from  error's  gloom  ; 
Then,  on  the  last  day,  from  the  tomb. 

We  praise  Thee,  who  from  Death's  fierce  hold 
The  carnal,  under  evil  sold, 
Hast  freed,  and  pointed  out  the  way 
Where  we  must  tread  to  live  for  aye. 


DAWN  BURSTS  O'ER  DEATH'S  PRISON.     [63 


Baton  bursts  o'er  Dratlj's  Prison, 

By  Franz  Michael  Franzsn,  Bishop  of  HornSsand,  who  was  bom 
at  (Jleaborg,  Finland,  in  1773,  and  died  in  1S47.     He  it  the 

Univcn  .    and    became    professor    o\     literary     history     there. 

Later  he  received  the  living  of  kaimla  in  Sweden,  and  m  1835  he  I 
incumbent  of  Santa  Clara  in  Stockholm.  In  1S41  he  was  appointed 
Bishop  of  Hornosand.  His  poetry  has  been  compared  to  that  of  the 
so-called  Lake  school  of  English  poets,  in  its  simple  and  accurate  de- 
lineations of  the  natural,  the  domestic,  and  the  idyllic  The  following 
ition  is  by  A.  P.  Hitchcock,  one  of  the  editors  of  "  The  Norwich 
(Conn.)  Bulletin."  The  last  three  stanzas  were  first  printed  in  a  little 
Easter  leaf-cluster  called  "  Buona  Pasqua,"  in  1S7S:  the  first  two,  com- 
pleting the  poem,  were  contributed  by  Mr.  Hitchcock  to  a  collection  of 
Easter  poetry,  compiled  by  the  editor  of  the  present  volume,  which  was 
published  in  "  The  Boston  Journal  "  April  20,  187S. 

|AWN  bursts  o'er  Death's  prison  ; 
Fulfilled  is  the  Word  ! 
To  life  He  hath  risen  : 
Oh,  joy  to  the  Lord! 
Redemption  completed, 
The  last  foe  defeated, 
The  seal  has  been   broken,  the  tomb  is  un- 
barred : 
At  the  breath  of  His  passing,  in  fright  fled 
the  guard, 
And  Tartarus  groans,  Alleluia! 

The  darkness  infernal 
Withstood  Him  in  fight  ; 


164    DAWIV  BURSTS  O'ER  DEATH'S  PRISON. 

But  victory  eternal 

He  won  for  the  right. 
Death's  kingdom  is  ended  : 

Faith  rises  again, 
'Mid  destinies  blended, 
With  Hope  in  her  train. 
Ye  sorrowing  women,  why  seek  ye  the  dead  ? 
From  the  grave  He  hath  conquered,  the  Liv- 
ing hath  fled  ! 
The  Saviour  hath  risen,  Alleluia ! 


Once  more  upon  mortals 

God  smileth  in  love  : 
The  grave  opes  its  portals 

To  pathways  above. 
Heads  bending  in  sadness 
'Neath  Calvary's  cross, 
Look  upward  with  gladness, 
Nor  fear  the  world's  loss  ! 
Come  back,  scattered  flock,  to  your  Shepherd 

and  Lord  ! 
He    liveth !    He    liveth  !    to    watch    you    and 
ward, 
Unseen  from  the  skies,  Alleluia  f 


Ye  ages,  storm  onward  ! 
His  Church  shall  not  fail 


DAW  \    BURSTS  O'ER   DEATHS  PRISON.    165 

As  light  spreads  from  sunward, 

i  [is  love  shall  pr  jvail. 
1  lis  messengers,  flying 

Where  foot  hath  e'er  trod, 

Through  battling  and  dying, 
Hear  witness  of  God,  — 
Bear  witness  of  Thee,   0  Thou  Trust  in  all 

need, 
Who,  dying  for  us,  didst  Thy  followers  lead 
Through  death  up  to  life,  Alleluia! 

Ye  saints,  why  your  sorrow, 
Your  doubt  and  dismay  ? 
The  night  and  the  morrow 

Will  soon  wear  away. 
Soon,  soon  in  earth's  bosom 
Shall  sleep  end  your  pain  ; 
Soon  life  shall  re-blossom 
And  spring  up  like  grain. 
Himself,  the  great  Sower,  shall  come  at  the 

end, 
And  winnow  His  wheat  from  the  tares,  and 
ascend 
To  garner  his  sheaves,  Alleluii! 


<£nglisl). 


DQXE  IS  A  BATTLE  OX  THE  DRAGON.     1 69 


Dour  is  a  Battle  on  tljr  Dragon  Black. 

By  WlLUAM  DUNBAR,  who  was  born  at  Salton,  in  East  Lothian,  Scot- 
nit  the  year  1460.     He  took  the  degree  of  M.A.,  at 
.  and  was  employed  for  some  time  as  an  itinerant  or  preaching  friar. 
v';x)Ut  1500  he  live  i  the  court,  and  was  the  : 

-ions  and  other  tokens  of  royal  favor.     In  151 1  he  visited  Scotland, 
in  the  tram  of  Queen  Margaret      After  the  defeat  at  Flodden,  and  the 
ieath,  his  name  disappears      He  is  supposed  to  have  died  about 
He  had  a  wonderful  variety  of  poetic  gifts,  as  original  as  they  were 
wide  in  range,  and  he  may  be  fairly  described  as  a  Scotch  Chaucer.     His 
chief  poems  are  "  The  Thistle  and  the  Rose,"  and  "  The  Golden  Terge." 


|ONE  is  a  battle  on  the  Dragon  black  : 
Our   Champion,   Christ,   confoundit 
has  his  force  : 
The  yetts1  of  Hell  are  broken  with  a  crack  : 
The  sign  triumphal  raist2  is  of  the  cross  : 
The  devils  tremmils3  with  hideous  voice  : 
The  souls  are  borrowit,4  and  to  the  bliss  can 
go: 
Christ  with  His  blood  our  ransoms  does  in- 
dooce  : 5 
Surrexit  Dominus  de  sepulchro, 

Dungin6  is  the  deidly  dragon  Lucifer, 
The  cruel  serpent  with  the  mortal  stang; 

1  Gates.     -  Raised.     3  Trembles.     4  Redeemed.     5  Indorse, 
6  Overthrown.     '  S tin <r. 


I/O     DOXE  IS  A  BATTLE  OX  THE  DRAGOX. 

The  aulcl  keen  tiger,  with  his  teeth  on  char,1 
Whilk  in  a  wait  for  us  has  lain  so  lang, 
Thinking  to  grip  us  in  his  clawis  Strang  : 

The  merciful  Lord  would  not  that  it  were  so ; 
He  made  him  to  felve  2  of  that  fans: : 

Surrexit  Dominus  de  sepulchro. 

He  for  our  sake  that  sufferit  to  be  slain, 

And  like  a  lamb  in  sacrifice  was  dicht,' 
Is  like  a  lion  risen  up  again, 

And  as  gyane  4  has  raxit 5  Him  on  hicht. 

Springin  is  Aurora  radins  and  bricht, 
On  loft  is  gone  the  glorious  Apollo, 

The  blissful  day  departed  fro  the  mcht  : 
Surrexit  Dominus  de  sepulchro. 

The  great  Victor  again  is  risen  on  hicht, 
That    for    our    quarrel    to    the    death    was 
woundit : 
The  sun  that  wox6  all  pale  now  shinis  bricht, 
And  darkness  clear' t,  our  faith  is  new  re- 

foundit : 
The    knell  of    mercy    fra    the    Heaven    is 
soundit : 
The  Christians  are  deliverit  of  their  wo, 

The  Jewis  and  their  error  are  confoundit : 
Surrexit  Dominus  de  sepulcki 

i  On  edge.       -  Fail       a  Dressed.       *  A  giant.       *  PU 
6  Waxed. 


MOST  GLORIOUS    LORD   Of    LIFE  I       I  7  I 

The  foe  is  chas't,  the  battle  is  done  a 

The  prison  broken,  the  jevellours  fleet  and 
flemit  :- 

The  war  is  gone,  confirmit  is  the  peiss,1 
The  fetters  loosit,  and  the  dungeon  temit,4 
The  ransom  maid,  the  prisoners  redeemit  : 

The  field  is  won,  oure  comin  B  is  the  fo, 
Dispulit6  of  the  treasure  that  he  yemit  :" 

Surrexit  Dotninus  de  sepulchro. 

1  And   ceased.     -  The   jailers   frightened    and    driven    away. 
3  Teace.     4  Emptied.     '°  Overcome.     G  Despoiled.     7  Prized. 


{Host  Glorious  ILorti  of  iiife !  tljat  on 
tijt.s  Day. 

P>y  Edmcnd  Stenser.  who  was  born  in  London  in  1553;    graduated 
at  Cambridge  in  1572;    died  in   London  Jan.  15.  1509.     He  held  - 
offices  under  the  Crown,  and  resided  for  some  years  in  Ireland,  where  at 
one  time  he  possessed  a  large  estate.     By  the  breaking  out  c.  rebellion  he 
lost  his  property,  and  die.:  .  itution.     "  The  Faery  Queen  "  was 

his  great  work:   but  he  wrote  also  many  lesser  pieces,  and  some  exquisite 
sonnets.     The  following  is  the  sixty -eighth  oi  the  '' Amoreti." 

■OST  glorious  Lord  of  Life  !   that  on 
this  day 
Didst  make  Thy  triumph  over  death 
and  sin, 
And,  having  harrowed  hell,  didst  bring  away 
Captivity  thence  captive,  us  to  win  : 
This  joyous  day,  dear  Lord,  with  joy  begin  ; 


172 


SAVIOUR   OF  MANKIND. 


And  grant  that  we,  for  whom  Thou  diddest 

die, 
Being  with  Thy  dear  blood  clean  washed  from 

sin, 
May  live  forever  in  felicity  ! 
And  that  Thy  love,  we,  weighing  worthily, 
May  likewise  love  Thee  for  the  same  again  ; 
And  for  Thy  sake,  that  all  like  dear  didst  buy, 
With  love  may  one  another  entertain. 

So  let  us  love,  dear  love,  like  as  we  ought : 
Love    is    the   lesson    which    the    Lord    us 

taught. 


Mainour  of  fHanluntr,  £Han!  Emmanuel! 

By  George  Sandys,  who  was  born  at  Bishopsthorpe,  Yorkshire,  in 
1577,  and  died  in  March,  1643.  He  was  a  son  of  the  Archbishop  of  York, 
and  studied  at  Oxford.  He  made  an  extensive  tour  in  Greece,  Egypt,  and 
the  Holy  Land,  and  published  accounts  of  his  travels,  in  prose  and  verse. 
After  this,  he  became  treasurer  of  the  colony  of  Virginia,  and,  while  in 
this  country,  published  a  translation  of  the  Metamorphoses  of  Ovid,  which 
was  one  of  the  earliest  of  American  books.  He  published  other  works,  in 
prose  and  verse;  and  Dry  den  styled  him  "  the  best  versifier  of  the  former 
age."  The  following  lines,  which  are  exquisitely  finished,  were  written  at 
the  Temple  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 


AVIOUR  of  mankind,  Man!  Em- 
manuel ! 

!1  Who,  sinless,  died  for  sin  ;  Who  van- 
quished hell ; 


SAVIOUR   OF  MANKIND.  173 

The  first-fruits  of  the  grave;  Whose  life  did 

give 
Light   to   our  darkness  ;    in    Whose   death  we 

live  : 
( )h,  strengthen  Thou  my  faith,  correct  my  will, 
So  that  the  latter  death  shall  not  devour 
My  soul  sealed  with  Thy  seal  !     So   in    the 

hour 
When  Thou,  Whose  body  sanctified  this  tomb, 
Unjustly  judged,  a  glorious  Judge  shalt  come 
To  judge  the  world  with  justice,  by  that  sign 
I  shall  be  known  and  entertained  for  Thine. 


174  SLEEP,   SLEEP,    OLD  SUN. 


Sleep,  sleep,  oto  &un;  tijou  eanst  not 
fjatre  recast. 

By  Dr.  John  Donne,  who  was  born  in  1573,  and  died  Dean  of  St. 
Paul's  in  1631.  He  was  educated  for  the  law,  but  never  practised  it;  and 
having  lost  his  secretaryship  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  Ellesmere  through 
the  revenge  of  Sir  George  More,  whose  daughter  Donne  had  married  in 
secret,  he  was  for  some  years  dependent  on  the  generosity  of  his  friends. 
He  yielded  only  after  prolonged  reflection  to  the  importunity  of  King 
James,  who  was  so  convinced  of  his  fitness  for  the  church  that  he  would 
give  him  no  other  preferment.  He  was  made  Vicar  of  St.  Dunstan's,  and 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's;  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  his  sacred  duties  with  a 
whole-hearted  devotion  and  sincerity  which  justified  the  king's  estimate 
of  his  powers.  Sorrow  and  poverty  were  not  strangers  to  his  life;  but  he 
preserved  a  serene  and  trustful  spirit.  He  is  usually  considered  as  the  first 
of  the  so-called  "  metaphysical  poets  "  of  the  seventeenth  century.  There 
are  many  quaint,  and  some  grotesque,  conceits  among  his  poems;  but 
there  is  also  considerable  elevation  of  thought,  and  genuineness  of  feeling. 

|LEEP,  sleep,  old  sun  ;  thou  canst  not 
have  re-past l 
As   yet  the  wound   thou   took'st  on 
Friday  last. 
Sleep,  then,  and   rest  :    the  world  may  bear 

thy  stay  ; 
A  better  sun  rose  before  thee  to-day  ; 
Who,  not  content  to  enlighten  all  that  dwell 
On  the  earth's  face,  as  thou,  enlightened  hell, 
And  made  the  dark  fires  languish  in  that  vale, 
As  at  thy  presence  here  our  fires  grow  pale  ; 
Whose   body,   having  walked  on   earth,  and 
now 

1  Recovered. 


LET  FAITHFULL  SOULL  I  75 

Hastening  to  heaven,  would,  that  He  might 

allow 
Himself  unto  all  stations,  and  fill  all, 

these  three  days  heeome  a  mineral. 
He  was  all  gold  when  he  lay  down,  but  r< 
All  tincture;  and  doth  not  alone  disp< 

.en  and  iron  wills  to  good,  but  is 
Of  power  to  make  even  sinful  flesh  like  His. 
Had  one  of  those,  whose  credulous  piety 
Thought  that  a  soul  one  might  discern  and  see 
Go  from  a  body,  at  this  sepulchre  been, 
And  issuing  from  the  sheet  this  body  seen, 
He  would  have  justly  thought   this   body  a 

soul, 
If  not  of  any  man,  yet  of  the  whole. 


ILrt  jrattfjfuil  Soulcs  tfjts  DouMc  JFcast 
attend 

By  Sir  John  Beaumont,  elder  brother  of  Francis  Beaumont  the 
dramatist,  born  in  1582,  and  died  in  1628.  Among  his  writings  are  a  few- 
fine  religious  poems.  The  following  was  written  upon  the  two 
feasts  of  the  Annunciation  and  the  Resurrection,  falling  on  the  same  day, 
March  25,  1627.  Only  the  closing  part  is  here  given:  the  poem  begins, 
"  Thrjce  happy  day,  which  sweetly  dost  combine." 

ET   faithfull  soules  this  double  feast 
attend 
In    two    processions.      Let  the   first 
descend 


176  LET  FAITHFULL  SOCLES. 

The  temple's  staires,  and  with  a  downe-cast 

eye 
Vpon  the  lowest  pavement  prostrate  lie  : 
In  creeping  violets,  white  lillies  shine 
Their  humble  thoughts,  and  ev'ry  pure  de- 

signe. 
The  other  troope   shall  climbe  with   sacred 

heate 
The  rich  degrees  of  Salomon's  bright  seate  : 
In  glowing  roses  fervent  zeale  they  beare ; 
And  in  the  azure  flowre-de-lis  appeare 
Celestial  contemplations,  which  aspire 
Above  the  skie,  up  to  th'  immortal  quire. 


/'//,  WHY  II AST  THO  :  TTIRE1   I  JJ 


Sag,  Eartlj,  foiiu  liast  tljott  got  tfjee 
Nefo  attire? 

F.y  (,.::r>  Flbtcher,  the  date  of  whose  birth  is  by  Chalmers 
jecturt  n  1 5 S 3 :   though  it  should  probably  be  ; 

'■  Canto  "  on  the  death  of  Elizabeth  —  a  \  \ 

:Mished  in  1603.     H 

:i.  where  he  died  in  1623. 
His  chief  work  was  "  Christ's  Yictorie  and  Triumph,"  which  w.i- 
lished  in  1610,  and  is  known  to  have  had  considerable  influence  in  mould- 
ing the  muse  of  Milton.  The  poem  is  now  little  read;  but  it  contains 
some  beautiful  passages,  which  richly  repay  perusal.  The  follow 
taken  from  the  fourth  section  of  the  poem,  on  "  Christ's  Triumph  after 
I>eath."  In  the  wide  range  of  Easter  poetry,  there  are  few  things  more 
exquisite  than  this  representation  of  the  universal  sympathy  of  Nature  in 
the  joy  of  the  Resurrection.  The  text  quoted  is  that  of  the  edition  of  the 
Rev.  Alexander  B.  Grosart,  in  the  "  Fuller  Worthies'  Library." 

I  AY,   Earth,  why  hast   thou  got  thee 
new  attire, 
And  stick'st  thy  habit  full  of  dazies 
red  ? 
Seems  that  thou  doest  to  some  high  thought 

aspire, 
And     some     newe- found -out     bridegroome 

mean'st  to  wed. 
Tell  me,  ye  trees,  so  fresh  appareed, 

So  neuer  let  the  spitefull  canker  wast  you, 
So  neuer  let   the    heau'ns    with   lightning 
blast  you, 
Why  goe  you  now  so  trimly  drest,  or  whither 
hast  you  ? 


178        SAY,   EARTH,    WHY  HAST   THOU 

Answer  me,  Iordan,  why  thy  crooked  tide 

So  often  wanders  from  his  neerest  way, 

As  though  some  other  way  thy  streame  would 

slide, 
And  fain  salute  the  place  where  something 

lay  ? 
And  you,  sweete  birds,  that,  shaded  from  the 

ray, 
Sit  carrolling  and  piping  griefe  away, 
The  while  the  lambs  to  heare  you  daunce 

and  play,  — 
Tell  me,  sweete  birds,  what   is   it   you  faine 

would  say  ? 

And  thou,  fair  spouse  of  Earth,  that  euerie 

yeare 
Gett'st  such  a  numerous  issue  of  thy  bride, 
How  chance  thou  hotter  shin'st,  and  draw'st 

more  neare  ? 
Sure    thou    somewThear    some    worthie    sight 

hast  spide, 
That  in  one  place  for  ioy  thou  canst  not  bide. 
And  you,  dead  swallowes,  that  so  liuely  now 
Through  the  flit  '  aire  your  winged  passage 

rowe, 
How  could  new  life  into  your  frozen  ashes 

flowe  ? 

1  Flittins; ;  i.e.,  moving. 


T  THEE   NEW  A  nil  .  179 

Ye  primroses  and  purple  violets, 

Tell  me,  why  blaze  ye  from  your  leauie1  bed. 

And  wooe  men's  hands  to  rent  you  from  your 

As  though  you  would  somewhear  be  carried, 

With  fresh  perfumes  and  velvets  garnished  ? 
But  ah  !   I  neede  not  aske,  'tis  sureh 
You  all  would  to  your  Sauiour's  triumphs 
goe  : 
There  would  ye  all  waaite  and  humble  hom- 
age doe. 

Thear  should   the    Earth   herself e,  with   gar- 
lands newe 
And  louely  flow'rs  embellished,  adore  : 
Such  roses  neuer  in  her  garland  gTewe, 
Such  lillies  neuer  in  her  brest  she  wore, 
Like  beautie  neuer  yet  did  shine  before  : 
Thear  should  the  sunne  another  sunne  be- 
hold, 
From  whence  himselfe  borrowes  his  locks 
of  gold, 
That  kindle   heau'n   and   earth  with   beauties 
manifold. 

There  might  the  violet  and  primrose  sweet, 
Beames  of  more  liuely  and  more  louely  grace, 

1  Leafy. 


l8o  THIS  IS    THE  DAY 

Arising  from  their  beds  of  incense  meet ; 
Thear  should  the  swallows  see  new  life  em- 
brace 
Dead  ashes,  and  the  graue  vnheal 1  his  face, 
To  let  the  living  from  his  bowels  creepe, 
Vnable  longer  his  owne  dead  to  keepe  : 
There  heau'n  and  earth  should  see  their  Lord 
awake  from  sleepe. 

1  Unveil,  or  uncover. 


Efjis  is  tfje  ©ag  tije  3Lorti  J)atfj  mate. 

By  George  Wither,  born  at  Bentworth,  Hampshire,  in  1588;  died 
1667.  He  graduated  at  Oxford,  and  studied  law,  but  soon  adopted 
literature  as  a  profession.  His  life  was  a  troubled  one,  and  he  was  twice 
imprisoned  for  political  writings.  He  was  a  captain  of  horse  in  an  expe- 
dition against  the  Scots  in  1639,  but  on  the  rise  of  the  Commonwealth 
raised  a  troop  of  horse  for  the  Parliament,  and  won  the  rank  of  major. 
He  was  a  man  of  deep  and  fervid  convictions.  He  was  a  voluminous 
writer.  His  poetry  abounds  in  forced  and  fanciful  conceits,  and  much  of  it 
is  on  trivial  themes;  but  it  contains  many  gems  which  were  not  adequately 
appreciated  during  the  poet's  lifetime,  nor  for  several  generations  after. 

jlHIS  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made, 
And  therein  joyful  we  will  be ; 
For  from  the  black  infernal  shade 

In  triumph  back  returned  is  He  : 

The  snares  of  Satan  and  of  Death 

He  hath  victoriously  undone, 

And  fast  in  chains  He  bound  them  hath, 

His  triumph  to  attend  upon. 


THE  LORD   HATH  MADE.  1K1 

The  grave,  which  all  men  did  del 

And  held  a  dun-con  full  of   fear, 
Is  now  become  a  bed  of   rest, 
And  no  such  terrors  find  we  there. 
For  Jesus  Christ  hath  took  away 
The  horror  of  that  loathed  pit  ; 
E'en  ever  since  that  glorious  day 
In  which  Himself  came  out  of  it. 

His  mockings,  and  His  bitter  smarts, 
He  to  our  praise  and  ease  doth  turn  ; 
And  all  things  to  our  joy  converts, 
Which  He  with  heavy  heart  hath  borne: 
His  broken  flesh  is  now  our  food  ; 
His  blood  is  shed,  is  ever  since 
That  drink  which  doth  our  souls  most  good, 
And  that  which  shall  our  foulness  cleanse. 

Those  wounds  so  deep,  and  torn  so  wide, 

As  in  a  rock  our  shelters  are  ; 

That  which  they  pierced  through  His  side 

Is  made  a  dove-hole  for  His  dear  : 

Yea,  now  we  know,  as  was  foretold, 

His  flesh  did  no  corruption  see  ; 

And  that  hell  wanted  strength  to  hold 

So  strong  and  one  so  blest  as  He. 

Oh  !  let  us  praise  His  name  therefore, 
(Who  thus  the  upper  hand  hath  won,) 


I  82    HENCE  THE  Y  HA  VE  BORN  MY  LORD. 

For  we  had  else,  forevermore, 

Been  lost  and  utterly  undone  : 

Whereas  His  favor  doth  allow 

That  we  with  boldness  thus  may  sing:  — 

O  Hell !  where  is  thy  conquest  now  ? 

And  thou  (O  Death) !  where  is  thy  sting  ? 

Octree  tijeg  ijabe  Born  tttjj  ILorti,    Bc^ 
ijoltr !  tlje  Stone. 

By  Robert  Herrick,  who  was  born  in  1591,  and  died  about  1674. 
He  studied  for  a  time  at  Cambridge,  with  the  intention  of  adopting  the 
legal  profession;  but  changed  his  purpose,  and  entered  into  holy  orders. 
From  1629  to  1648  he  was  Vicar  of  Dean  Prior  in  Devonshire,  but  was 
ejected  by  the  Puritan  party,  to  whom  his  royalism  and  his  loose  morals 
were  alike  distasteful.  He  lived  for  some  years  in  London,  so  poor  as  to 
be  a  recipient  of  charity,  but  enjoying  converse  with  the  literary  wits  of 
the  day.  About  1660  his  vicarage  was  restored  to  him,  and  he  retained 
it  until  his  death.  He  was  ill  adapted  to  the  sacred  office,  and  his  verse 
exhibits  the  same  fluctuations  and  contradictions  as  his  life.  The  follow- 
ing is  found  among  his  "  Noble  Numbers." 

jjENCE    they    have    born    my    Lord. 
Behold  !  the  stone 
Is  rowl'd  away,  and  my  sweet  Sav- 
iour's gone. 
Tell  me,  white  angell,  what  is  now  become 
Of  Him  we  lately  seal'd  up  in  this  tombe  ? 
Is  He  from  hence  gone  to  the  shades  beneath 
To    vanquish    Hell,    as    here    He    conquer'd 

Death  ? 
If  so,  I'le  thither  follow  without  feare, 
And  live  in  hell,  if  that  my  Christ  staves  there. 


RISE,  HEART:    THY  LORD   IS   RISEN.     I  S3 

l\tsf,  jjeart :  tliy  iLorD  is  Risen.    Sing 
1i)iS  praise. 

By  I  m  of  his  saintly  life 

poetry,  came  to  be  known  as  "  holy  ( ;( 

j  wnery  Castle,  Wales,  April  3,  1593;  graduated  with 

Cambridge,    and   became   a   fellow   of  Trinity    College   in    1615.      He  took 

orders,  and  became  prebendary  of  Leigbton   Bromswold,  in 
married  in  1630;  and  was  given  the  living  of  Bemerton,  n< 
where  he  died  in  February,  [632.     In   1631   he  published  "The  Temple; 
Poems   and   Private   Ejaculations:"    and    several   volumes    of   hi*. 
writings,  in  prose  and  verse,  were  published  after  his  death. 


allSE,  heart  :  thy  Lord  is  risen.     Sing 
His  praise, 

Without  delayes, 

Who  takes  thee  by  the  hand,  that  thou  like- 
wise 

With  Him  may'st  rise; 
That,  as  His  death  calcined  thee  to  dust, 
His  life  may  make  thee  gold,  and  much  more 
just. 

Awake,  my  lute,  and  struggle  for  thy  part 

With  all  thy  art  : 
The  crosse  taught  all  wood  to  resound   His 
name 

Who  bore  the  same  ; 
His  stretched  sinews  taught  all   strings  what 

key 
Is  best  to  celebrate  this  most  high  day. 


184    RISE,  HEART:    THY  LORD   IS  RISEN. 

Consort,  both  heart  and  lute,  and  twist  a  song 

Pleasant  and  long  : 
Or,  since  all  musick  is  but  three  parts  vied, 

And  multiplied, 
Oh,  let  thy  blessed  Spirit  bear  a  part, 
And  make  up  our  defects  with  His  sweet  art  ! 

I  got  me  flowers  to  straw  Thy  way  ; 

I  got  me  boughs  off  many  a  tree  : 

But  Thou  wast  up  by  break  of  day, 

And  brought'st  Thy  sweets  along  with  Thee. 

The  Sunne  arising  in  the  East, 

Though  he  give  light,  and  th'  East  perfume, 

If  they  should  offer  to  contest 

With  Thy  arising,  they  presume. 

Can  there  be  any  day  but  this, 
Though  many  sunnes  to  shine  endeavor  ? 
We  count  three  hundred  ;  but  we  misse  : 
There  is  but  one,  and  that  one  ever. 


LORD,   WHO   CREATEDST  MAX.  I  <S 5 

3Lortr,  bjfio  rrcatctost  fHau  in  ffiBealti) 
anli  Store 

By  I  pfrt,  1593-1632.    Sec  note  to  tin.-  preceding  hymn. 

The  title  is  '  Easter-Wings,"  and  the  fanciful  construction  of  the  verse  is 

m  accord  with  the  thought. 

ORD,    who    createdst   man  in  wealth 
and  store, 
Though  foolishly  he  lost  the  same, 
Decaying  more  and  more, 
Till  he  became 
Most  poor  ; 

With  Thee, 

Oh,  let  me  rise, 

As  larks,  harmoniously, 

And  sing  this  day  Thy  victories  ; 

Then  shall  the  fall  further  the  flight  in  me. 

My  tender  age  in  sorrow  did  beginne  ; 

And  still  with  sicknesses  and  shame 

Thou  didst  so  punish  sinne, 

That  I  became 

Most  thinne. 

With  Thee 

Let  me  combine, 

And  feel  this  clay  Thy  victorie  ; 

For,  if   I  imp  my  wing  on  thine, 

Affliction  shall  advance  the  flight  in  me. 


1 86  ALAS,   POORE  DEATH! 


3las,  poore  Scatty!  fofjrrc  is  tfyg  ffilorte? 


By   George    Herbert,    1593-1632.      It    is    entitled   "A   Dialogue- 
Anthem,"  and  Christian  and  Death  are  the  speakers. 


CHRISTIAN. 

LAS,  poore  Death  !  where  is  thy  glorie  ? 
Where   is  thy  famous  force,  thy  an- 
cient sting  ? 


DEATH. 

Alas,  poore  mortally  void  of  storie, 

Go  spell  and  reade  how  I  have  killed  thy  King. 

CHRISTIAN. 

Poore  Death  !  and  who  was  hurt  thereby  ? 
Thy  curse  being  laid  on    Him    makes    thee 
accurst. 

DEATH. 

Let  losers  talk, yet  thou  slialt  die : 
These  arms  shall  crush  thee  — 

CHRISTIAN. 

Spare  not :  do  thy  worst  : 
I  shall  be  one  day  better  than  before  ; 
Thou  so  much  worse,  that  thou  shalt  be  no 
more. 


DEATH  was  ONCE  A  HIDEOUS  THING.    187 


DratI),  tliott  toast  oner  an  Kncoutfj 
JgitteotUf  (Tl)tng. 

By  G  32. 


qi%^j  ICAT1I,   thou   wast   once   an    uncouth 
hideous  thing, 

Nothing  but  bones  ; 


L|2d 


The  sad  effect  of  sadder  grones  : 
Thy  mouth  was  open,  but  thou  couldst  not  sing. 

For  we  consider'd  thee  as  at  some  six 
Or  ten  yeares  hence, 
After  the  losse  of  life  and  sense, 
Flesh    being    turn'd    to    dust,  and    bones    to 
sticks. 

We  lookt  on  this  side  of  thee,  shooting  short  ; 
Where  we  did  finde 
The  shells  of  fledge  souls  left  behinde, 
Dry    dust,    which    sheds    no    tears,  but  may 
extort. 

But  since  our  Saviour's  death  did  put  some 
bloud 

Into  thy  face, 
Thou  art  grown  fair  and  full  of  grace, 
Much  in  request,  much  sought  for,  as  a  good. 


155  UPi    AXD   AWAY! 

For  we  do  now  behold  thee  gay  and  glad 
As  at  doomsday, 
When  souls  shall  wear  their  new  aray, 
And  all  thy  bones  with  beautie  shall  be  clad. 

Therefore  we  can  go  die  as  sleep,  and  trust, 

Half  that  we  have, 
Unto  an  honest,  faithfull  grave ; 
Making  our  pillows  either  down,  or  dust. 


8Jp,  anli  3to! 

By  Christopher  Harvey,  who  was  born  at  Bunbtiry,  in  Cheshire, 
in  1597;  graduated  at  Brasen-nose  College  in  1613;  took  holy  orders,  and 
was  made  Vicar  of  Clifton.  He  wrote  and  published  anonymously,  in 
1647,  "  The  Synagogue,"  a  series  of  poems  in  close  imitation  of  George 
Herbert;  and  the  work  is  frequently  affixed  to  Herbert's  poems.  He 
died  April  1,  1663.  The  following  is  taken  from  "The  Synagogue,"  as 
contained  in  Grosart's  "  Fuller  Worthies  Library." 

P,  and  away  ! 

Thy  Saviour's  gone  before  : 
Why  dost  thou  stav, 
Dull  soul  ?     Behold,  the  door 
Is  open,  and  His  precept  bids  thee  rise, 
Whose  pow'r  hath  vanquish't  all  thine  ene- 
mies. 
Say  not,  I  live, 

Whilst  in  the  grave  thou  ly'st : 
He  that  doth  give 

Thee  life  would  have  thee  prize't 


r/\  AND  aw  a  v :  189 

More  highly  than  to  keep  it  buri'd  where 

Thou  canst  not  make  the  fruits  of  it  appear. 
[s  rottenn 

And  dust  so  pleasant  to  thee, 
That  happin 

And  heaven  cannot  woo  thee 
To  shake  thy  shackles  off,  and  leave  behind 

thee 
Those    fetters,   which    to    death    and  hell  do 

bind  thee  ? 
In  vain  thou  say'st 

Thou'rt  bury'd  with  thy  Saviour, 
If  thou  delay'st 

To  shew  by  thy  behaviour 
That  thou  art  risen  with  Him.    Till  thou  shine 
Like  Him,  how  canst  thou  say  His  light  is 

thine  ? 
Early  He  rose, 

And  with  Him  brought  the  day, 
Which  all  thy  foes 

Frighted  out  of  the  way  ; 
And  wilt  thou  sluggard-like  turn  in  thy  bed, 
Till    noon-sun    beams    draw    up    thy  drowsy 

head  ? 
Open  thine  eyes, 

Sin-seised  soul,  and  see 
What  cobweb-tyes 

They  are  that  trammel  thee  ; 


I90     WHAT  FAITHLESS,  FRO  WARD  MAN. 

Xot  profits,  pleasures,  honors,  as  thou  thickest, 
But  loss,  pain,  shame,  at  which  thou  vainly 

winkest. 
All  that  is  good 

Thy  Saviour  dearly  bought 
With  His  heart's  blood  ; 

And  it  must  there  be  sought, 
Where    He    keeps    residence  Who  rose  this 

day. 
Linger  no  longer,  then  :  up,  and  away  ! 


aKijat  jFaitfjless,  jFrofoar*,  Sinful  fHan* 

The  following  ballad  is  contained  in  the  Roxburghe  Collection,  and  its 
date  is  between  1560  and  1700.  It  was  printed  as  a  broadside,  in  black- 
letter,  under  the  title,  "  A  most  Godly  and  Comfortable  Ballad  of  the 
Glorious  Resurrection  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  how  He  triumphed  over 
Death,  Hell,  and  Sin,  whereby  we  are  certainly  persuaded  of  our  rising 
again  from  the  Dead."  Below  the  title  was  a  rude  wood-cut.  In  this 
Christ  appears  on  a  bow  among  opening  clouds.  On  either  side,  at  His 
feet,  angels  blow  trumpets.  In  the  centre  foreground  stands  the  cross, 
before  which  a  miscellaneous  company  kneel ;  while  beyond  it  the  dead 
are  rising  from  their  graves  in  their  shrouds.  The  ballad  claims  attention 
less  by  its  poetic  qualities  than  by  the  simplicity  and  directness  with  which 
it  recites  the  incidents  of  the  Resurrection. 

H HAT  faithless,  froward,  sinful  man 
so  far  from  grace  is  fled, 
That  doth  not  in  his  heart  believe 
the  Rising  of  the  Dead  ? 
Or  why  do  wicked  mortal  men 
their  lives  so  vainly  frame, 


WHAT  FAITHLESS,  FRO  WARD  MAX      I   ll 

That,  being  Dead,  they  do  suppose 
they  shall  not  rise  again  ? 

For  why,  if  that  the  Dead  indeed, 

which  now  consuming  1\ 
Shall  not  by  God  be  rais'd  again, 

then  Christ  did  never  rise  : 
And  if  so  be  our  Saviour  sweet 

he  did  not  rise  from  death, 
Our  Preaching  is  of  no  effect, 

and  vain's  our  hope  on  Earth. 

If  Christ  rose  not,  again  I  say, 

then  are  we  yet  in  sin, 
And  they  that  fall  asleep  in  him 

no  part  of  joy  shall  win. 
Of  all  the  creatures  living,  then, 

which  God  on  earth  did  frame, 
M  ist  wretched  are  the  states  of  men 

which  spend  their  days  in  vain. 

But  Christ  is  risen  up  from  Death, 

as  it  was  right  and  meet, 
And  thereby  trod  down  Death  and  Hell 

and  sin  under  His  feet  ; 
And,  that  the  same  to  sinful  men 

the  plainer  might  appear, 
The  glorious  rising  of  the  Lord 

his  word  declareth  clear. 


! 


I92      WHAT  FAITHLESS,  FRO  WARD  MAN. 

When  he  within  the  grave  was  laid, 

the  Jews  did  Watch-men  set,     " 
Lest  by  his  friends  his  corp  thence 

should  secretly  be  fet : 
A  mighty  Stone  likewise  they  did 

on  his  Sepulchre  role, 
And  all  for  fear  his  body  should 

away  from  thence  be  stole. 

But  in  the  Dead  time  of  the  night 

a  mighty  earth-quake  came, 
The  which  did  shake  both  Sea  and  Land, 

and  all  within  the  same ; 
And  then  the  Angel  of  the  Lord 

came  down  from  Heaven  so  high, 
And  rol'd  away  the  mighty  stone 

which  on  the  ground  did  lie. 

His  face  did  shine  like  flaming  fire, 

his  Cloathes  were  white  as  snow, 
Which  put  the  watchmen  in  great  fear, 

who  ran  away  for  wroe, 
And  told  unto  the  High-Priest,  plain, 

what  I  do  now  rehearse; 
Who  hired  them  for  money  straight, 

that  they  should  hold  their  peace. 

And  say,  quoth  he,  his  servants  came, 
whom  he  sometimes  did  keep, 


WHAT  FAITHLESS,  FROWARD  MAX.     1 93 

And  secretly  stole  him  away, 

while  ye  were  fast  asleep  ; 
And,  if  that  Herod  bear  thereof, 

we  will  persuade  him  so, 
That  you  shall  find  no  hurt  at  all 

wherever  you  do 

But  faithful  Mary  Magdalen, 

and  James  her  Brother  too, 
They  brought  great  store  of  Oyntment, 

as  Jewes  were  wont  to  do  ; 
Who  rose  up  early  in  the  morn, 

before  that  it  was  day, 
The  body  of  the  Lord  t'annoint 

in  grave  whereas  he  lay. 

And  when  unto  the  Grave  they  came, 

they  were  in  wondrous  fear : 
They  saw  a  young  man  in  the  same ; 

but  Christ  they  saw  not  there. 
Then  said  the  Angel  unto  them, 

why  are  you  so  afraid  ? 
The  Lord,  whom  you  do  seek,  I  know 

is  risen  up,  he  said. 

Then  went  these  women  both  away, 

who  told  these  tidings  than 
To  John  and  Peter,  who  in  haste 

to  the  Sepulchre  ran  ; 


194     WHAT  FAITHLESS,  FRO  WARD  MAN 

Who  found  it  as  the  woman  said, 

and  then  away  did  go  ; 
But  Mary  stayed,  weeping*  still, 

whose  tears  declar'd  her  woe  ; 

Who,  looking  down  into  the  grave, 

two  Angels  there  did  see  : 
Od  they,  Why  weeps  this  woman  so  ? 

even  for  my  Lord,  Od  she ; 
And  turning  then  herself  about, 

as  she  stood  weeping  so, 
The  Lord  was  standing  at  her  back ; 

but  him  she  did  not  know. 

Why  doth  this  woman  weep  ?  he  said  : 

whom  seek'st  thou  in  this  place? 
She  thought  it  had  the  gard'ner  been  ; 

and  thus  she  shows  her  case  : 
If  thou  hast  borne  him  hence,  she  said, 

then  tell  me  where  he  is  ; 
And  for  to  fetch  him  back  again 

be  sure  I  will  not  miss. 

What,  Mary  !   then  our  Saviour  said, 

dost  thou  lament  for  me  ? 
O  Master,  livest  Thou  again  ? 

My  soul  doth  joy  in  thee! 
O  Mary,  touch  me  not,  He  said, 

ere  I  have  been  above. 


WHAT  FA  II'IIL ESS,  FROWARD  MAX.      I  95 

Even  with  my  God,  the  only  God 
and  Father  whom  we  love. 

And  oftentimes  did  Christ  appear 

to  his  Disciples  all  : 
Yet  Thomas  would  not  it  believe, 

his  faith  it  was  so  small, 
Except  that  he  might  thrust  his  hand 

into  the  wound  so  wide, 
And  put  his  finger  where  the  spear 

did  pierce  the  tender  side. 

Then  Christ,  which  knew  all  secrets, 

to  them  again  came  he, 
Who  said  to  Thomas,  Here  I  am  ; 

as  plainly  thou  may'st  see. 
See  here  the  hands  which  nails  did  pierce, 

and  holes  are  in  my  side  ; 
And  be  not  faithless,  O  thou  man 

for  whom  these  pains  I  bide  ! 

Thus  sundry  times  he  shew'd  himself 

when  he  did  rise  again, 
And  then  ascended  into  Heaven, 

in  glory  for  to  reign  ; 
Where  he  prepares  a  place  for  those 

whom  he  shall  raise  likewise, 
To  live  with  him  in  Heavenly  bliss, 

above  the  loftv  skies. 


196  WHAT  GLORIOUS  LIGHT'. 


BKijat  ffilortous  ILtcfbt ! 

By  Jeremy  Taylor,  D.D.,  who  was  born  at  Cambridge  1613;  and 
died  at  Lisburn  Aug.  13,  1667.  He  was  the  son  of  a  barber;  but  his 
father,  who  had  been  in  better  circumstances,  did  his  utmost  to  advance 
his  education.  He  graduated  at  Caius  College  in  1631,  was  ordained  in 
1633,  and,  after  continuing  his  studies  for  a  time  at  Oxford,  was  appointed 
to  the  fellowship  at  All  Souls.  He  served  as  rector  of  Uppingham,  Rut- 
landshire, and  as  chaplain  of  Charles  I.  at  Oxford.  He  kept  a  school  at 
Llanvihangel  in  Carmarthenshire,  and  there  wrote  some  of  his  greatest 
works.  He  was  taken  prisoner  at  the  siege  of  the  Castle  of  Cardigan. 
In  1660  he  signed  the  declaration  of  the  Royalists,  and  won  the  notice  of 
the  restored  king,  Charles  II.,  who  made  him  Bishop  of  Down,  Connor, 
and  Dromore,  and  Vice-Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Dublin.  He 
published  a  number  of  theological  works,  volumes  of  sermons,  &c,  and 
is  now  best  known  by  his  "  Rules  for  Holy  Living  and  Dying."  His 
style  is  rich,  quaint,  and  learned,  with  some  marked  defects  as  well  as 
excellences,  —  at  once  rewarding  study  and  discouraging  imitation.  The 
following  is  one  of  his  "Festival  Hymns"  appended  to  the  "Golden 
Grove,"  a  manual  of  prayers. 

jJHAT  glorious  light  ! 

How  bright   a    sun,  after  so    sad    a 
night, 

Does  now  begin  to  dawn  !    Bless'd  were  those 
eves 
That  did  behold 
This  Sun,  when  he  did  first  unfold 
His  glorious  beams,  and  now  begin  to  rise. 
It  was  the  holy  tender  sex 

That  saw  the  first  ray  : 
St.  Peter  and  the  other  had  the  reflex, 
The  second  glimpse  o   th'  day. 


RISE,  HEIR   OF  FRESH  ETERNITY.      1 97 

Innocence  bad  the  first  ;  and  he 

That  fled,  and  thou  did  penance,  next  did 
The  glorious  Sun  of  righteousm 

In  his  new  dress 
Of  triumph,  immortality,  and  bliss. 
I  >  dearest  God,  preserve  our  souls 

In  holy  innocence  ! 
Make  us  to  rise  again  to  th'  life  of  grace  ; 
That  we    may   live  with  thee,  and   see  Thy 
glorious  face, 
The  crown  of  holy  penitence. 


Bfee,  5)rtr  of  JFrrslj  Eternitg, 

By  Richard  Crashaw,  who  was  born  in  London  about  1616;  grad- 
uated at  Cambridge,  where  he  obtained  a  fellowship  in  1637;  and  entered 
the  English  Church  in  1641,  becoming  an  earnest  and  eloquent  preacher. 
The  Parliament  ejected  him  from  his  fellowship  in  1644  for  refusing  to 
take  the  Covenant,  and  he  soon  after  adopted  the  Roman-Catholic  faith. 
After  some  hardships,  he  was  recommended  to  certain  Italian  dignitaries. 
He  was  appointed  secretary  to  one  of  the  cardinals,  and  canon  of  the 
Church  of  Lorette  In  this  office  he  died  in  1650.  He  wrote  both  Latin 
and  English  poems;  and  the  latter,  of  which  the  following  is  a  good  ex- 
ample, greatly  resemble  the  hymns  of  George  Herbert. 


i*^s|fISE,  heir  of  fresh  eternity, 
»j        From  thy  virgin-tomb  ; 

Rise,  mighty  man  of  wonders,  and 
thy  world  with  thee  ; 
Thy  tomb,  the  universal  East,  — 
Nature's  new  womb  ; 
Thy  tomb,  —  fair  Immortality's  perfumed  nest. 


198     RISE,   HEIR    OF  FRESH  ETERNITY. 

Of  all  the  glories  l  make  noon  gay 
This  is  the  morn  ; 
This    rock    buds    forth    the    fountain  of    the 
streams  of  day  ; 
In  joy's  white  annals  lives  this  hour, 
When  life  was  born, 
No  cloud-scowl  on  his  radiant  lids,  no  tem- 
pest-lower. 

Life,  by  this  light's  nativity, 
All  creatures  have  ; 
Death  only  by  this  day's  just  doom  is  forced 
to  die. 
Nor  is  Death  forced  ;  for,  may  he  lie 
Throned  in  thy  grave, 
Death  will  on  this  condition  be  content  to  die. 

1   Which  understood. 


DEATH  AND   DARKNESS.  199 


Dratl)  anti  Darkness,  get  jgoti  parking ! 

By  Hknk,  '  >rn  in  Newton,  Wales,  hi  roai ;  and  died  April 

5.    He  studied  at  Oxford,  ai  physician;  but  chiefly  de- 

lighted in  literary  pursuits.  He  was  an  admirer  and  disciple  of  Herbert; 
and  his  "  Silex  Scintlllans,"  a  collection  of  sa» red  poems,  was  moddled 
after  Herbert's  "  Temple.*1  His  earlier  poetry  was  of  a  secular  order,  al- 
though free  from  the  objectionable  features  of  the  poetry  of  the  time. 
Severe  illness  gave  a  more  serious  turn  to  his  mind;  and  he  wrote  several 
devotional  works  in  prose,  l)esides  the  volume  of  sacred  poems  already 
referred  to.  He  associated  with  men  of  genius  in  London;  but  his  poetry 
was  not  appreciated  during  his  life.  It  exhibits  the  defects  as  well  as  the 
excellences  of  its  mLviel;  but  is  quaint,  striking,  suggestive,  and  very 
often  impressive. 

jjEATH   and  darkness,   get  you   pack- 
ing ! 
Nothing  now  to  man  is  lacking  ; 
All  your  triumphs  now  are  ended, 
And  what  Adam  marr'd  is  mended. 
Graves  are  beds  now  for  the  weary, 
Death  a  nap  to  wake  more  merry  ; 
Youth  now,  full  of  pious  duty, 
Seeks  in  thee  for  perfect  beauty  ; 
The  weak  and  aged,  tired  with  length 
Of  daies,  from  thee  look  for  new  strength  ; 
And  infants  with  thy  pangs  contest 
As  pleasant  as  if  with  the  brest. 

Then  unto  Him  who  thus  hath  thrown 
Even  to  contempt  thy  kingdome  down, 


200  THOU    WHOSE   SAD   HEART. 

And  by  His  blood  did  us  advance 
Unto  His  own  inheritance, 
To  Him  be  glory,  power,  praise, 
From  this  unto  the  last  of  daies  ! 


SHjott  m\)05t  sali  $?cart  an*  keeping 
f^catr  lues  ILofo. 

By  Henry  Vaughn,  1621-1695.  —  See  note  to  preceding. 


HOU   whose  sad   heart  and  weeping 
head  lyes  low, 
Whose  cloudy  brest  cold  damps  in- 
vade, 
Who  never  feel'st  the  sun,  nor  smooth'st  thy 
brow, 
But  sitt'st  oppressed  in  the  shade,  — 

Awake  !  awake  ! 
And  in  His  resurrection  partake, 
Who  on  this  day,  that  thou  might'st  rise  as  He, 
Rose  up,  and  cancell'd  two  deaths  due  to  thee. 

Awake  !  awake !  and,  like  the  sun,  disperse 

All  mists  that  would  usurp  this  day  : 
Where  are  thy  palms,  thy  branches,  and  thy 
verse  ? 
Hosanna  !  hark  !  why  dost  thou  stay  ? 

Arise  !  arise  ! 


BLEST  MORNING.  20 1 

And  with  his  healing  bloud  anoint  thil 

Thy   inward    eyes:    His   bloud    will   cure   thy 

mind, 
Whose  spittle  only  could  restore  the  blind. 


Blest  {Homing,  foljosc  gounfl  Batoning 

L\aus. 

By  Is  SAC  Watts,  D.D.,  one  of  the  most  famous  and  prolific  of  I 
lish  hymn-writers.  He  was  born  at  Southampton  July  17,  1674;  and  died 
Nov.  25,  1748.  He  possessed  such  precocious  talents,  that  he  began  the 
study  of  Latin  in  his  fourth  year,  and  wrote  very  tolerable  hymns  at  the 
age  of  seven.  He  was  a  minister  of  the  Independent  Church  in  London, 
and  he  wrote  in  prose  as  well  as  verse,  —  his  be>t-known  prose  work 
beinji  a  treatise  on  Logic  and  Improvement  of  the  Mind. 

jjLEST  morning,  whose  young  dawning 
rays 
Beheld  our  rising  God  ; 
That  saw  Him  triumph  o'er  the  dust, 
And  leave  His  dark  abode  ! 

In  the  cold  prison  of  a  tomb 

The  dead  Redeemer  lay, 
Till  the  revolving  skies  had  brought 

The  third,  the  appointed  day. 

Hell  and  the  grave  unite  their  force 

To  hold  our  God  in  vain  : 
The  sleeping  Conqueror  arose, 

And  burst  their  feeble  chain. 


202  YES,    THE  REDEEMER   ROSE. 

To  Thy  great  name,  Almighty  Lord, 

These  sacred  hours  we  pay, 
And  loud  hosannas  shall  proclaim 

The  triumph  of  the  day. 

Salvation  and  immortal  praise 

To  our  victorious  King ! 
Let  heaven  and  earth,  and  rocks  and  seas, 

With  s;lad  hosannas  ring ! 


3fcs,  tfjc  ftctiecmcr  rose. 

By  Philip  Doddridge,  D.D.,  who  was  born  in  London  in  1702,  and 
died  at  Lisbon  in  1751.  He  was  pastor  of  a  Congregational  church  at 
Kibworth,  and  later  at  Northampton,  where  he  also  carried  on  an  acade- 
my. Here  two  hundred  students  received  their  training,  of  whom  one 
hundred  and  twenty  entered  the  ministry.  He  was  a  man  of  rare  piety 
and  industry,  and  occupied  a  sphere  of  wide  usefulness  as  pastor,  preacher, 
teacher,  expositor  of  the  Scriptures,  and  author  of  religious  works  in  prose 
and  verse.  His  hymns  were  written  to  be  sung  at  the  close  of  his  sermons; 
and  they  have  been  compared  to  "  spiritual  amber,  fetched  up  and  floated 
off  from  sermons  long  since  lost  in  the  depths  of  bygone  time."  They 
were  published  after  his  death.  He  was  never  of  robust  health,  and  his 
multiplied  labors  hastened  the  pulmonary  disease  which  caused  his  death. 

ES,  the  Redeemer  rose  : 

The  Saviour  left  the  dead, 
And  o'er  our  hellish  foes 

High  raised  His  conquering  head. 
In  wild  dismay, 
The  guards  around 
Fell  to  the  ground, 
And  sunk  away. 


VES,    THE  REDEEMER   /  203 

Lo  !  the  angelic  bands 

In  full  assembly  meet, 
To  wait  His  high  commands, 
And  worship  at  I  lis  feet : 

Joyful  they  come, 
And  wing  their  way 
From  realms  of  day 
To  such  a  tomb. 


Then  back  to  heaven  they  fly, 
And  the  glad  tidings  bear  : 
Hark  !  as  they  soar  on  high, 
What  music  fills  the  air! 
Their  anthems  say,  — 
"Jesus,  Who  bled,  „ 
Hath  left  the  dead  : 
He  rose  to-day." 


Ye  mortals,  catch  the  sound, 

Redeemed  by  Him  from  hell, 
And  send  the  echo  round 

The  globe  on  which  you  dwell 
Transported,  cry, — 
"  Jesus,  Who  bled, 
Hath  left  the  dead, 
No  more  to  die." 


204   CHRIST  THE  LORD   IS  RISEN   TO-DAY. 

All  hail,  triumphant  Lord, 

Who  sav'st  us  with  Thy  blood ! 
Wide  be  Thy  name  adored, 
Thou  rising,  reigning  God  ! 
With  Thee  we  rise, 
With  Thee  we  reign, 
And  empires  gain 
Beyond  the  skies. 


Cfjrtst  tfje  Hortf  is  risen  fto^ag- 

By  Chari.es  Wesley,  one  of  the  founders  of  Methodism,  and  one 
of  the  sweetest,  as  he  was  certainly  the  most  prolific,  of  English  hymn- 
writers.  He  was  born  at  Epworth  Dec.  18,  1708,  and  graduated  at  Ox- 
ford. In  1735  he  took  orders,  and  immediately  went  to  Georgia  as  a  mis- 
sionary, in  company  with  his  brother  John.  The  mission  was  unsuccessful ; 
but  its  results  were  of  great  importance  to  the  Wesley s,  as  their  intercourse 
with  the  Moravian  Christians  who  sailed  in  the  same  ship  with  them  led 
them  to  embrace  their  views.  On  their  return  to  England  they  formed,  in 
conjunction  with  Whitefield  and  others,  the  first  Methodist  society,  in  Fetter 
Lane,  London ;  and  thenceforth  their  lives  were  devoted  to  propagating 
the  doctrines  and  illustrating  the  principles  of  that  zealous  and  active  de- 
nomination. Charles  Wesley  died  March  29,  1788,  leaving  behind  him 
more  than  four  thousand  published  hymns,  and  over  two  thousand  in  man- 
uscript. In  such  a  vast  body  of  verse  there  must  needs  be  much  chaff; 
but  there  are  also  many  grains  of  pure  wheat. 


jHRIST  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day, 
Sons  of  men,  and  angels,  say  : 
Raise  your  joys  and  triumphs  high  ; 
Sing,  ye  heavens;  and,  earth,  reply. 


CHRIST   THE   LORD   IS  RJ  DAY. 

Love's  redeeming  work  is  done, 
Fought  the  light,  the  battle  won  : 
Lo  !  our  Sun's  eclipse  is  o'er  ; 
Lo!    He  sets  in  blood  no  more. 

Vain  the  stone,  the  watch,  the  seal  : 
Christ  hath  burst  the  gates  of  hell  ! 
1  teath  in  vain  forbids  His  rise  : 
Christ  hath  opened  Paradise  ! 

Lives  again  our  glorious  King: 
Where,  0  Death,  is  now  thy  sting? 
Once  He  died  our  souls  to  save  : 
Where  thy  victory,  O  grave  ? 

Soar  we  now  where  Christ  has  led, 
Following  our  exalted  Head. 
.Made  like  Him,  like  Him  we  rise  : 
Ours  the  cross,  the  grave,  the  skies. 

What  though  once  we  perished  all, 
Partners  in  our  parents'  fall  ? 
Second  life  we  all  receive, 
In  our  Heavenly  Adam  live. 

Risen  with  Him,  we  upward  move  : 
Still  we  seek  the  things  above ; 
Still  pursue,  and  kiss  the  Son, 
Seated  on  His  Father's  throne. 


206     CHRIST  THE   LORD   IS  RISEN   TO-DAY. 

Scarce  on  earth  a  thought  bestow, 
Dead  to  all  we  leave  below : 
Heaven  our  aim,  and  loved  abode  ; 
Hid  our  life  with  Christ  in  God, — 

Hid  till  Christ  our  Life  appear, 
Glorious  in  His  members  here  : 
Joined  to  Him,  we  then  shall  shine, 
All  immortal,  all  divine. 

Hail  the  Lord  of  earth  and  heaven  ! 
Praise  to  Thee  by  both  be  given  ! 
Thee  we  greet  triumphant  now  : 
Hail,  the  Resurrection  Thou  ! 

King  of  glory,  Soul  of  bliss  ! 
Everlasting  life  is  this, 
Thee  to  know,  Thy  power  to  prove, 
Thus  to  sing,  and  thus  to  love  ! 


MARY    TO   HER  SAVIOUR'S    TOMB. 


ftfaru  to  [jet  Mainour's  (Tomb. 

By  J    HM  Ni  a  Ti  M,  II  '.  I  was  born  in    I  OQjdoil   in  1725,  an 

.  and  romantii       1  i-  el  and 

;i  his 
home  from  Africa  —  where  he  had  lived  in  the 

iring  a  terrific  storm,  that  the  truth  of  Christianity 

broke  in  upon  him,  and  he  became  a  changed  man.     For  some  y 
continued  to  follow  the  sea;   but  in   1758  he  began  to  preach,  and,  after 
.  entered   upon  a  regular  ministry  in  the    cur 
In  1779  he  became  rector  of  a  London  church,  and  his  labors 
were  earnest  and  fruitful.      He  published  several  volumes  in  prose,  and 
was  the  principal  author  of  the  Olney  Hymns. 

ARY  to  her  Saviour's  tomb 

Hasted  at  the  early  dawn  : 
Spice  she    brought,  and    sweet    per- 
fume ; 
But  the  Lord  she  loved  was  gone. 
For  a  while  she  weeping  stood, 

Struck  with  horror  and  surprise  ; 
Shedding  tears,  a  plenteous  flood, 
For  her  heart  supplied  her  eyes. 

Grief  and  sighing  quickly  fled 

When  she  heard  His  welcome  voice  : 

Just  before,  she  thought  Him  dead  ; 
Xow  He  bids  her  heart  rejoice. 

What  a  change  His  word  can  make, 
Turning  darkness  into  day  ! 


208  THE  HAPPY  MORN  IS  COME  I 

You  who  weep  for  Jesus'  sake, 
He  will  wipe  your  tears  away. 

He  who  came  to  comfort  her 

When  she  thought  her  all  was  lost 
Will  for  your  relief  appear, 

Though  you  now  are  tempest-tossed. 
On  His  word  your  burden  cast, 

On  His  love  your  thoughts  employ  : 
Weeping  for  a  while  may  last ; 

But  the  morning  brings  the  joy. 


Cfje  H?app2  Jftorn  is  come! 

By  Thomas  Haweis,  LL.B.,  born  at  Truro,  Cornwall,  in  1732;  died 
in  1820.  He  graduated  at  Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  and  held  a  rec- 
torship at  Aldwinkle,  Northamptonshire.  He  was  a  popular  preacher, 
and  one  of  the  founders  of  the  London  Missionary  Society.  He  was  the 
author  of  several  prose  works,  —  among  them  a  translation  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  a  commentary  on  the  Bible,  —  and  of  a  volume  of  hymns 
entitled  "  Carmina  Christo." 


HE  happy  morn  is  come  ! 

Triumphant  from  the  grave, 
The  Lord  hath  left  the  tomb, 
Omnipotent  to  save. 
Captivity  is  captive  led  ; 
For  Jesus  liveth,  and  was  dead. 


77//-:   HAPPY  MORN  IS  COME! 

Who  now  accuseth  them 

For  whom  their  Surety  died  ? 
Who  now  shall  those  condemn 
Whom  God  hath  justified  ? 
Captivity  is  captive  led  ; 

For  Jesus  liveth,  and  was  dead. 

Christ  hath  the  ransom  paid  ; 
His  glorious  work  is  done  : 
( )n  I  lim  our  help  is  laid, 
By  Him  our  victory  won. 
Captivity  is  captive  led  ; 
Fur  Jesus  liveth,  and  was  dead. 

To  God,  the  Risen  Son, 

Father  and  Spirit  blest, 
xEternal  Three  in  One, 
All  worship  be  addrest. 
Captivity  is  captive  led  ; 
For  Jesus  liveth,  and  was  dead. 


2IO     ANGELS,  ROLL    THE  ROCK  AWAY ! 


&n<jrls,  roll  tije  &otft  afoag! 

By  Rev.  Thomas  Scott,  a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  born  at  Nor- 
wich, England,  and  died  at  Hupton  in  1776.  It  was  altered  by  Rev. 
Thomas  Gibbons,  a  Congregational  minister  in  England  (1720-1785), 
and  is  usually  ascribed  to  him.  It  has  passed  through  many  transforma- 
tions; the  original  version  containing  seven  verses,  and  beginning, 
"  Trembling  earth  gave  awful  signs."  The  following  is  the  form  given 
in  Dr.  Schaff' s  "  Christ  in  Song,"  and  pronounced  by  him  at  least  equal 
to  the  original,  although  so  changed  as  to  read  like  quite  another  hymn. 

|NGELS,  roll  the  rock  away ! 
Death,  yield  up  the  mighty  prey  ! 
See  !  the  Saviour  quits  the  tomb, 
Glowing  with  immortal  bloom. 
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 

Shout,  ye  seraphs  !  angels,  raise 
Your  eternal  song  of  praise  ! 
Let  the  earth's  remotest  bound 
Echo  to  the  blissful  sound  ! 

Hallelujah!   Hallelujah! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 

Holy  Father,  Holy  Son, 
Holy  Spirit,  Three  in  One, 
Glory  as  of  old  to  Thee, 
Now  and  evermore,  shall  be ! 

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  to-day. 


AGAIN  THE  LORD  01   LIFE   AND  LIGHT.  211 


9gatn  tlir  iLorti  of  lift  anti  itgijt 


died  at  Newington  Green  in  1325.    She  was  the  daug 

n  Aikin :    and  the  wife  of  anotbi  lemont 

1  She  wrote  verses  at  an  earrj  in  1773  published  a 

volume  of  poems  which  attained  considerable  popularity. 


GAIX  the  Lord  of  Life  and  Light 
Awakes  the  kindling  ray, 
Unseals  the  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
And  pours  increasing  day. 


Oh,  what  a  night  was  that  which  wrapt 
The  heathen  world  in  gloom  ! 

Oh,  what  a  sun  which  broke  this  day 
Triumphant  from  the  tomb  ! 

This  day  be  grateful  homage  paid, 

And  loud  hosannas  sung  ; 
Let  gladness  dwell  in  every  heart, 

And  praise  on  every  tongue. 


Ten  thousand  differing  lips  shall  join 

To  hail  this  welcome  morn, 
Which  scatters  blessings  from  its  wings 

To  nations  yet  unborn. 


212    AG  A IX  THE  LORD  OF  LIFE  AND  LIGHT. 

The  powers  of  darkness  leagued  in  vain 

To  bind  His  Soul  in  death  : 
He  shook  their  kingdom,  when  He  fell, 

With  His  expiring  breath. 

And  now  His  conquering  chariot-wheels 

Ascend  the  lofty  skies  ; 
While,  broken  beneath  His  powerful  cross, 

Death's  iron  sceptre  lies. 

Exalted  high  at  God's  right  hand, 

The  Lord  of  all  below, 
Through  Him  is  pardoning  love  dispensed, 

And  boundless  blessings  flow. 

And  still  for  erring,  guilty  man, 

A  Brother's  pity  flows  ; 
And  still  His  bleeding  heart  is  touched 

With  memory  of  our  woes. 

To  Thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  King, 

Glad  homage  let  me  give  ; 
And  stand  prepared  like  Thee  to  die, 

With  Thee  that  I  may  live ! 


WHO  coy 


aSfjo  Comes? 


By  Willi/  vlbs,  born  at  Kind's  Sutton  1762;  educated 

at  Winchester  and  Oxford;  died  at  Salisbury  April  7,  1850.     H-   .- 

of  Bremhill  in  1804,  and  held  that  position  for  the  remainder 

of  hi^  life.  He  was  the  author  of  several  prose  works,  and  the  complete 
edition  of  his  poems  fills  two  volumes.  He  was  specially  distinguished 
for  his  sonnets,  which  gave  inspiration  to  Coleridge's  muse;  and  one  of 
his  biographers,  Rev.  George  Gilfillan,  characterizes  him  as  the  father  of 
modern  poetry. 


HO  comes  (my  soul,  no  longer  doubt) 
Rising  from  earth's  wormy  sod, 
And,  whilst  ten  thousand  angels  sing, 
Ascends,  ascends  to  heaven,  a  God  ? 


Saviour,  Lord,  I  know  Thee  now  ! 

Mighty  to  redeem  and  save: 
Such  glory  blazes  on  Thy  brow, 

Which  lights  the  darkness  of  the  grave. 

Saviour,  Lord,  the  human  soul  — 
Forgotten  every  sorrow  here  — 

Shall  thus,  aspiring  to  its  goal, 
Triumph  in  its  native  sphere. 


214         THE  SETTING   ORB   OF  NIGHT. 


Efje  .Setting  ©r&  of  Ntgfjt  fjet  ILcbcl  Eag. 


By  James  Grahame,  born  in  Glasgow  April  22,  1765;  and  died  near 
that  city  Sept.  14,  181 1.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Glas- 
gow, and  studied  law  at  Edinburgh.  He  left  the  legal  profession  to  culti- 
vate his  poetic  gifts;  and  in  1809  he  gratified  a  long-cherished  desire  by 
taking  orders  in  the  Church  of  England.  After  brief  service  as  curate  at 
Shipton  and  at  Sedgefield,  ill  health  compelled  the  abandonment  of  his 
sacred  duties.  He  left  several  poetical  works,  the  best  known  of  which  is 
"  The  Sabbath,"  from  which  the  following  is  taken. 


[HE  setting  orb  of  night  her  level  ray 
Shed  o'er  the  land,  and  on  the  dewy 
sward 

The  lengthened  shadows  of  the  triple  cross 
Were  laid  far  stretched ;   when   in   the  east 

arose, 
Last  of  the  stars,  day's  harbinger.     No  sound 
Was   heard,  save    of   the  watching   soldier's 

foot. 
Within  the  rock-barred  sepulchre  the  gloom 
Of  deepest  midnight  brooded  o'er  the  dead, 
The  Holy  One.     But,  lo  !  a  radiance  faint 
Began  to  dawn  around  His  sacred  brow  ; 
The  linen  vesture  seemed  a  snowy  wreath, 
Drifted  by  storms  into  a  mountain  cave  ; 
Bright,  and   more    bright,  the    circling    halo 

beamed 
Upon  that  face,  clothed  in  a  smile  benign, 


THE  SETTING   ORB   OF  NIGHT         J15 

Though  yet  exanimate.     Nor  long  the  reign 
(  \{   death  :   the   eyes   that    wept    for  human 
griefs 

Unclose,  and  look  around  with  conscious  joy. 
Yes  :  with  returning  life,  the  first  emotion 
That    glowed    in    Jesus'    breast    of    love    was 

j°y 

At  man's  redemption,  now  complete  ;  at  death 
Disarmed;    the    grave    transformed   into  the 

couch 
Of  faith  ;  the  resurrection  and  the  life. 
Majestical  He  rose  :  trembled  the  earth  ; 
The    ponderous    gate     of    stone    was     rolled 

away  ; 
The  keepers  fell  ;  the  angel,  awe-struck,  sunk 
Into  invisibility  ;  while  forth 
The  Saviour  of  the  world  walked,  and  stood 
Before  the  sepulchre,  and  viewed  the  clouds 
Impurpled  glorious  by  the  rising  sun. 


2l6    HE'S  CONE!  SEE    WHERE  HE  LAY. 


flK'S  gone!  sre  tofyrrc  fftis  Botm  lag. 

By  Thomas  Kelly,  bom  at  Dublin  in  1769;  died  May  14,  1855. 
He  was  the  son  of  the  Right  Hon.  Chief  Baron  Kelly,  and  studied  at 
Dublin  University.  He  abandoned  the  study  of  law  for  theology,  and 
took  orders  in  1792.  Becoming  dissatisfied  with  the  Established  Church, 
he  left  it,  and  founded  a  sect  which  bore  his  name.  He  was  a  man  of 
wealth  and  learning,  and  wrote  nearly  eight  hundred  hymns,  some  of 
which  have  come  into  very  general  use.  The  following  is  the  original 
version  of  a  hymn  which  appears  in  an  abridged  and  altered  form  in 
"  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,"  and  in  many  hymnals. 

|E'S  gone  !  see  where  His  body  lay, 
A  prisoner  till  the  appointed  day, 
Released  from  prison  then. 
Why  seek  the  living  with  the  dead  ? 
Remember  what  the  Saviour  said,  — 
That  He  should  rise  again. 

O  joyful  sound  !  O  glorious  hour  ! 
When  Jesus,  by  almighty  power, 

Revived,  and  left  the  grave. 
In  all  His  works  behold  Him  great ! 
Before,  Almighty  to  create  ; 

Almighty  now  to  save  ! 

"The  first  begotten  from  the  dead,'* 
Behold  Him  risen,  His  people's  Head, 
To  make  their  life  secure  : 


HE'S  GONE  I  SEE    WHERE  HE  LAY.    21? 

They  too,  like  Him,  shall  yield  their  breath, 
Like  Him  shall  hurst  the  bands  of  death, 
Their  resurrection  sure. 

Why  should  His  people  now  be  sad? 
None  have  such  reason  to  be  glad, 

As  reconciled  to  God. 
Jesus  the  mighty  Saviour  live 
To  them  eternal  life  He  gives, 

The  purchase  of  His  blood. 

Why  should  His  people  fear  the  grave? 
Since  Jesus  will  their  spirits  save, 

And  raise  their  bodies  too. 
What  though  this  earthly  house  shall  fail? 
Almighty  power  will  yet  prevail, 

And  build  it  up  anew. 

Ye  ransomed,  let  your  praise  resound, 
And  in  your  Master's  work  abound 

With  strong  and  patient  faith  ! 
Be  sure  your  labor's  not  in  vain  : 
Your  bodies  shall  be  raised  again, 

Xo  more  to  suffer  death. 


21 8  COME,    YE  SAINTS. 

Come,  ge  Saints,  look  \m,  atto  foonoer. 

By  Thomas  Kelly,  1769-1855.  —  See  note  to  the  preceding  hymn. 

flOME,  ye  saints,  look  here,  and  won- 
der ; 
!       See  the  place  where  Jesus  lay  : 
He  has  burst  His  bands  asunder ; 
He  has  borne  our  sins  away : 

Joyful  tidings  ! 
Yes,  the  Lord  has  risen  to-day. 

Jesus  triumphs  !     Sing  ye  praises  : 

By  His  death  He  overcame  : 
Thus  the  Lord  His  glory  raises, 

Thus  He  fills  His  foes  with  shame. 
Sing  ye  praises,  — 

Praises  to  the  Victor's  name. 

Jesus  triumphs  !     Countless  legions 

Come  from  heaven  to  meet  their  King  : 

Soon,  in  yonder  blessed  regions, 
They  shall  join  His  praise  to  sing ; 

Songs  eternal 
Shall  through  heaven's  hi°;h  arches  ring. 


WHO  IS  THIS  THAT  COMES  FROM  ED0M1  2IO 


KUio  is  tljis  tljat  comes  from  IZtiom? 


By  THOMAS  KELLY,  1769^1855.  —  Sec  note  to  the  hymn,"  He's  gone! 
see  where  His  body  lay." 


HO  is  this  that  comes  from  Edom, 
All  His  raiment  stained  with  blood, 
To  the  captive  speaking  freedom, 
Bringing  and  bestowing  good  ? 
Glorious  in  the  garb  He  wears, 
Glorious  in  the  spoil  He  bears.     Alleluia  ! 

Tis  the  Saviour,  now  victorious, 
Travelling  onward  in  His  might ; 

'Tis  the  Saviour:  oh,  how  glorious 
To  His  people  is  the  sight ! 

Satan  conquered,  and  the  grave, 

Jesus  now  is  strong  to  save.     Alleluia  ! 

This  the  Saviour  has  effected 

By  His  mighty  arm  alone. 
See  the  throne  for  Him  erected  ! 

'Tis  an  everlasting  throne  ; 
'Tis  the  great  reward  He  gains, 
Glorious  fruit  of  all  His  pains.     Alleluia  ! 


220         THE  LORD   IS  RISEN  INDEED. 

Mighty  Victor,  reign  forever ; 

Wear  the  crown  so  clearly  won  : 
Never  shall  thy  people,  never, 

Cease  to  sing  what  Thou  hast  done  : 
Thou  hast  quelled  Thy  people's  foes, 
Thou  hast  healed  Thy  people's  woes.  Alleluia ! 


&fje  3Lorti  is  risen  inUeetu 

By  Thomas  Kelly,  1769-1855. 


HE  Lord  is  risen  indeed ; 
And  are  the  tidings  true  ? 
Yes,  we  beheld  the  Saviour  bleed, 
And  saw  Him  living  too. 


The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 
Then  Justice  asks  no  more  ; 

Mercy  and  Truth  are  now  agreed, 
Who  stood  opposed  before. 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 
Then  is  His  task  performed  ; 

The  captive  surety  now  is  freed, 
And  death  our  foe  disarmed. 


THE   I. OKP   IS  RISEN   INDEED. 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 
Then  I  fell  has  lost  his  prey  ; 

With  Him  is  risen  the  ransomed  seed, 
To  reign  in  endless  day. 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 

1  le  lives  to  die  no  more  ; 
He  lives  the  sinner's  cause  to  plead, 

Whose  curse  and  shame  He  bore. 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 
This  yields  my  soul  a  plea ; 

He  bore  the  punishment  decreed  ; 
This  satisfies  for  me. 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  : 

Attending  angels,  hear ! 
Up  to  the  courts  of  heaven  with  speed 

The  joyful  tidings  bear. 

Then  take  your  golden  lyres, 
And  strike  each  cheerful  chord, 

Join  all  the  bright  celestial  choirs, 
To  sinir  our  Risen  Lord. 


222       MORNING  OF  THE  SABBATH  DAY. 


{Horning  of  tije  Sabbanj  Ban. 


By  James  Montgomery,  born  at  Irvine,  in  Ayrshire,  Nov.  4,  1771; 
died  at  Sheffield  April  30,  1854.  He  was  of  Irish  parentage,  and  his 
father  was  a  Moravian  minister.  He  was  himself  designed  for  the  minis- 
try; but  his  tastes  led  him  into  literary  pursuits,  and  he  became  editor  of 
the  Sheffield  "  Iris  "  in  1795.  He  was  twice  imprisoned  for  reflections 
upon  the  government;  and  it  was  in  prison,  in  1797,  that  he  commenced 
writing  verses.  His  poems  won  and  held  a  large  measure  of  popularity, 
and  his  hymns  in  particular  may  be  regarded  as  a  permanent  legacy  to 
sacred  literature.  He  was  of  a  pure  and  generous  character,  and  his  life 
was  long  and  tranquil.  Among  his  longer  poems  are  "The  Ocean," 
"  The  Wanderer,"  "  The  West  Indies,"  "  The  World  before  the  Flood," 
"  Greenland,"  and  "  The  Pelican  Island." 


ifORXIXG  of  the  Sabbath  day, 

O  thou  sweetest  hour  of  prime  ! 
Dart  a  retrospective  ray 

O'er  the  eastern  hills  of  time ; 
Daybreak  let  my  spirit  see 
At  the  foot  of  Calvary. 

Joseph's  sepulchre  is  nigh  ; 

Here  the  seal  upon  the  stone ; 
There  the  sentinel,  with  eye 

Star-like  fixed  on  that  alone. 
All  around  is  calm  and  clear  : 
Life  and  death  keep  Sabbath  here. 


RNTNG   OF   THE  SABBATH  DAY.     223 

Bright  and  brighter,  beam  on  beam, 
Now,  like  first  created  light, 

From  the  rock-cleft,  gleam  by  gleam, 
Shoots  athwart  the  waning  night, 

Till  the  splendor  grows  intense, 
Overpowering  mortal  sense. 

Glory  turns  with  me  to  gloom, 

Sight,  pulsation,  thought,  depart  ; 
And  the  stone  that  closed  the  tomb 

ms  to  lie  upon  my  heart. 
With  that  shock  the  vision  flies  : 
Christ  is  risen,  and- 1  may  rise, — 

Rise,  like  Him,  as  from  this  trance, 
When  the  trumpet  calls  the  just 

To  the  saints'  inheritance 

From  their  dwellings  in  the  dust. 

By  thy  resurrection's  power, 

Jesus,  save  me  in  that  hour  ! 

Sabbath  morning,  hail  to  thee  ! 

O  thou  sweetest  hour  of  prime  ! 
From  the  foot  of  Calvary 

Xow  to  Zion's  top  I  climb, 
There  my  risen  Lord  to  meet, 
In  His  temple,  at  His  feet. 


224  LO!   THE  DAY  THE  LORD  HATH  MADE : 


Ho !  tfje  Dau  tijc  Horo  fyanj  matie ! 

By  Bishop  Richard  Mant,  born  at  Southampton  in  1776;  died 
2,  1848.  He  graduated  at  Oxford  in  1797;  was  appointed  curate  in  1802, 
and  vicar  in  i3ic.  In  1813  he  was  appointed  domestic  chaplain  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury;  and,  three  years  later,  he  was  made  Rector 
of  St.  Botolph,  London.  He  was  made  a  bishop  in  1820,  and  presided 
over  the  sees  of  Killaloe,  of  Down  and  Connor,  and  of  Dromore.  He 
wrote  many  hymns  and  translations,  and  published  also  several  prose 
works. 


O !  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 
From  the  tomb's  funereal  shade 
Now  the  Sun  of  goodness  brings 
Healing  on  His  radiant  wings  ; 
And  before  His  bridal  light 
All  the  denizens  of  night, 
Fear,  and  shame,  and  sorrow,  fade  : 
Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 

Angels,  who  the  morn  outrun 
To  adore  the  glorious  Sun, 
At  whose  step  the  firm  earth  shakes, 
From  whose  eye  the  lightning  breaks  ; 
Ye,  whose  hand  excels  in  might ; 
Ye,  wrhose  accents  breathe  delight ; 
Forms  in  dazzling  wrhite  arrayed, — 
Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made ! 


LO!   THE  PAY  THE  LORD  HATH MADi 

Holy  women,  whom  the  dawn 

Sees  by  pious  duty  drawn 

To  the  Saviour's  rock-hewn  bed, 

Tears  and  unguents  rich  to  shed, — 

Stay  your  tears,  your  giftt  withhold  ; 

Angel-led,  the  cave  behold 

Where  the  Saviour's  corse  was  laid  : 

Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 


Holy  men,  beloved  pair, 

Who  with  rival  speed  repair 

To  explore  the  inmost  gloom 

Of  the  yet  untrodden  tomb, 

Mark  the  clothes  that  wrapped  Him  round, 

Swathed  His  limbs,  His  temples  bound, 

All  in  seemliest  order  laid  : 

Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made ! 


First  of  all  the  faithful  train 
To  behold  thy  Lord  again, 
Stay  not,  Mary,  weeping  here  : 
See,  thy  Saviour's  self  is  near ! 
Quick  thy  mighty  Master  greet ; 
Fall  in  homage  at  His  feet. 
All  thy  griefs  are  now  repaid  : 
Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 


226  LO!   THE  DAY  THE  LORD  HATH  MADE! 

Doubtful  hearts,  whom  late  He  taught, 
Musing  now  in  anxious  thought, 
Cease  your  doubts,  your  sorrows  cease ; 
Hear  Him  speak  the  words  of  peace. 
Deem  your  eyes  no  spirit  meet : 
Mark  His  pierced  hands  and  feet ; 
Mark  His  wounded  side  displayed  : 
Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 


Church  of  God,  whom  this  fair  morn 

Sees  to  life  and  glory  born, 

Founded  on  the  living  Stone, 

Which,  by  Judah's  builders  thrown, 

Thrown  with  infamy  aside, 

Now  becomes  thy  Strength  and  Pride, 

Be  thy  debt  of  duty  paid  : 

Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made ! 


Ever  as  this  day  shall  rise, 
Beaming  in  the  vernal  skies, 
Duly  to  the  Saviour's  praise, 
Church  of  God,  the  anthem  raise  ! 
Christ,  our  Passover,  was  slain  : 
Keep  the  feast,  and  swell  the  strain. 
Christ  is  raised  from  the  dead  : 
Bless  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made  ! 


MORNING  BREAKS   UPON   THE    TOMB,  127 


{Homing  breaks  upon  tfje  Comb. 

By  William   Bbngo  Collyek,  D.D.,  born  at   Btackheath,   Kent, 

April  14,  17S2;  died  Jan.  9,  1854.  He  received  only  an  academic  educa- 
tion, ami  beg. m  to  preach  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  He  was  pastor  of  a 
congregation  at  Beckham,  Surrey,  for  fifty-three  year-..  He  published 
several  volumes  of  prose,  and  one  book  ofhym 

ORXIXG  breaks  upon  the  tomb  ; 
Jesus  dissipates  its  gloom  ! 
Day  of  triumph  through  the  skies, 
See  the  glorious  Saviour  rise  ! 

Christians,  dry  your  flowing  tears  ; 
Chase  those  unbelieving  fears  : 
Look  on  His  deserted  grave  ; 
Doubt  no  more  His  power  to  save. 

Ye  who  are  of  death  afraid, 
•Triumph  in  the  scattered  shade  ; 
Drive  your  anxious  cares  away  ; 
See  the  place  where  Jesus  lay. 

So  the  rising  sun  appears, 
Shedding  radiance  o'er  the  spheres  ; 
So  returning  beams  of  light 
Chase  the  terrors  of  the  night 


228  CHRIST  IS  RISEN!  THE  LORD  IS  COME. 


Christ  is  risen!  ttje  SLorti  is  come. 


By  Henry  Hart  Milman,  D.D.,  who  was  born  in  London  Feb.  10, 
1791;  graduated  at  Oxford  1816;  ordained  1817;  Vicar  of  St.  Mary's, 
Reading,  1817-35;  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford  1821-31;  Rector  of  St. 
Margaret's,  Westminster,  and  Canon  of  Westminster,  1835-49;  Dean  of 
St.  Paul's  1849;  died  at  Sunningfield,  near  Ascot,  Sept.  24,  1868.  He  is 
best  known  by  his  great  works,  the  History  of  the  Jews,  the  History  of 
Christianity,  and  the  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  which  are  character- 
ized by  a  thorough  and  fearless  scholarship,  impartiality  of  judgment,  and 
eloquence  of  style.  He  wrote  several  biographical  and  historical  essays; 
edited  the  writings  of  several  poets;  translated  from  the  Sanscrit,  Greek, 
and  Latin;  and  published  three  volumes  of  poems,  from  the  second  of 
which  the  following  is  taken. 


HRIST  is  risen  !  the  Lord  is  come, 
Bursting  from  the  sealed  tomb  ! 
Death  and  Hell  in  mute  dismay 
Render  up  their  mightier  prey. 


Christ  is  risen  !  but  not  alone  ! 
Death,  thy  kingdom  is  o'erthrown  ! 
We  shall  rise  as  He  hath  risen 
From  the  deep  sepulchral  prison. 

Heirs  of  death,  and  sons  of  clay, 
Long  in  death's  dark  thrall  we  lay, 
And  went  down  in  trembling  gloom 
To  the  unawakening  tomb. 


CHRIST  IS  RISEN!   THE  LORD  IS  COME.  22<) 

I  [eirs  of  life,  and  sons  of  ( rod, 

Oil  the  path  our  Captain  trod, 
Now  we  hope  to  soar  on  high 
To  the  everlasting  sky. 

Mortal  once,  immortal  now, 

Our  vile  bodies  off  we  throw, 

Glorious  bodies  to  put  on 

Round  our  great  Redeemer's  throne. 

Lofty  hopes  !  and  theirs  indeed 
Who  the  Christian's  life  shall  lead  : 
Christ's  below  in  faith  and  love, 
Christ's  in  endless  bliss  above. 


2  30  O  DAY  OF  DAYS! 


©  Sag  of  Dags !  sfjall  hearts  set  tfrcc. 


By  Rev.  John  Keble,  who  claims  notice  as  the  author  of  the  most 
popular  collection  of  hymns  of  the  century,  and  as  one  of  the  chief  ori- 
ginators of  the  Tractarian  movement  in  the  Church  of  England.  He  was 
born  at  Fairford,  Gloucestershire,  April  25,  1792;  graduated  M.A.  at  Ox- 
ford in  1813 ;  became  Curate  of  Hursley  in  1825 ;  but  soon  after  returned  to 
Fairford,  where  he  resided  until  1835.  About  this  time  he  became  Vicar  of 
Hursley,  and  retained  that  living  until  his  death,  March  29,  1866.  He 
was  appointed  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford  in  1831,  and  wrote  early  and 
late,  in  prose  and  verse,  until  the  year  of  his  death.  His  fame  rests 
chiefly  upon  his  "  Christian  Year,"  a  volume  of  poems  pertaining  to  the 
festivals  of  the  Church.  This  book  has  had  an  extraordinary  popularity. 
It  was  first  published  in  1827,  and  the  author  lived  to  revise  the  ninety- 
sixth  edition  of  it.  Dr.  Arnold  declared  that  he  never  saw  poems  equal- 
ling these  in  the  wonderful  knowledge  of  Scripture,  the  purity  of  heart, 
and  the  richness  of  poetry,  which  they  exhibit.  Keble  wrote  also  the 
"  Lyra  Innocentium,"  a  volume  of  poems  on  the  ways  and  privileges  of 
children;  "  The  Psalter,"  a  metrical  rendering  of  the  Psalms  of  David; 
sundry  pieces  in  the  "  Lyra  Apostolica;  "  and  a  number  of  religious,  theo- 
logical, and  controversial  works  in  prose. 


DAY  of  days  !  shall  hearts  set  free 
No  "minstrel  rapture  "  find  for  thee  ? 
Thou  art  the  Sun  of  other  days  : 
They  shine  by  giving  back  thy  rays. 

Enthroned  in  thy  sovereign  sphere, 
Thou  shedd'st  thy  light  on  all  the  year  : 
Sundays  by  thee  more  glorious  break, 
An  Easter  Day  in  every  week. 


0  /'.I  V  (>/■   DA  YSi  231 

And  week-days,  following  in  their  train, 
The  fulness  oi   thy  blessing  gain  ; 
Till  all,  both  resting  and  employ, 

Be  one  Lord's  day  of   holy  joy. 

Then  wake,  my  soul,  to  high  desires, 
And  earlier  light  thine  altar-fires  : 
The  World  some  hours  is  on  her  way, 
Nor  thinks  on  thee,  thou  blessed  day. 

Or,  if  she  thinks,  it  is  in  scorn  : 
The  Vernal  light  of  Easter  morn 
To  her  dark  gaze  no  brighter  seems 
Than  Reason's  or  the  Law's  pale  beams. 

"  Where  is  your  Lord  ?  "  she  scornful  asks  : 
''Where  is  His  hire?  we  know  His  tasks: 
Sons  of  a  King  ye  boast  to  be  : 
Let  us  your  crowns  and  treasures  see." 

We  in  the  words  of  Truth  reply, 
(An  angel  brought  them  from  the  sky,)  — 
"Our  crown,  our  treasure,  is  not  here  ; 
'Tis  stored  above  the  highest  sphere. 

Methinks  your  wisdom  guides  amiss, 
To  seek  on  earth  a  Christian's  bliss  : 
We  watch  not  now  the  lifeless  stone  ; 
Our  only  Lord  is  risen  and  gone." 


232  O  DAY  OF  DAYS! 

Yet  even  the  lifeless  stone  is  dear, 
For  thoughts  of  Him  who  late  lay  here  ; 
And  the  base  world,  now  Christ  hath  died, 
Ennobled  is,  and  glorified. 

Xo  more  a  charnel-house  to  fence 
The  relics  of  lost  innocence,  — 
A  vault  of  ruin  and  decay  : 
The  imprisoning  stone  is  rolled  away. 

'Tis  now  a  cell,  where  angels  use 
To  come  and  go  with  heavenly  news, 
And  in  the  ears  of  mourners  say,  — 
"  Come,  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay." 

'Tis  now  a  fane  where  Love  can  find 
Christ  everywhere  embalmed  and  shrined, 
Aye  gathering  up  memorials  sweet 
Where'er  she  sets  her  duteous  feet 

Oh,  joy  to  Mary  first  allowed, 
When  roused  from  weeping  o'er  His  shroud 
By  His  own  calm,  soul-soothing  tone, 
Breathing  her  name  as  still  His  own  ! 

Joy  to  the  faithful  three  renewed, 
As  their  glad  errand  they  pursued  ! 
Happy,  who  so  Christ's  word  convey, 
That  He  may  meet  them  on  their  way. 


CHRIST  HATH  ARISEN! 

So  LS  it  still  :   to  holy  tears, 
In  lonely  hours,  Christ  risen  appe 
In  social  hours,  who  Christ  would 
Must  turn  all  tasks  to  charity. 


(Tlirist  Ijatlj  arisen!     ©  fflountam- 
Peaks,  attest! 

Mrs.  Fbucia  Hi  mans,  bora  at  Liverpool  Sept.  25,  1793;  died  at 
Ihiblin  May  16,  1835.  A  woman  of  rare  loveliness  of  character,  her 
life  was  clouded  by  domestic  trouble,  and  by  long  and  painful  illness; 
but  her  verse  was  always  clear,  pure,  and  elevated  in  sentiment,  and  ex- 
hibited a  serene  faith.  .She  holds  a  place  among  the  foremost  of  the 
I<riti>h  female  poets,  and  was  one  of  the  most  prolific  writers  of  her  day. 
The  stanzas  which  follow  constitute  the  concluding  portion  of  her  poem, 
"  Easter  Day  in  a  Mountain  Churchyard." 

[HRIST   hath   arisen  !      O   mountain- 
peaks,  attest  ! 
Witness,  resounding  glen  and  torrent- 
wave  ! 
The  immortal  courage  in  the  human  breast 
Sprung  from  that  victory  ;  tell   how  oft  the 
brave 
To  camp  midst  rock  and  cave, 
Nerved  by  those  words,  their  struggling  faith 

have  borne, 
Planting  the  cross  on  high  above  the  clouds 
of  morn  ! 


234  CHRIST  HATH  ARISEN! 

The  Alps  have  heard  sweet  hymnings  for  to- 
day ; 

Ay,  and  wild  sounds  of  sterner,  deeper  tone 

Have   thrilled   their  pines,   when  those  that 
knelt  to  pray 

Rose  up  to  arm  !     The  pure,  high  snows  have 
known 
A  coloring  not  their  own, 

But  from  true  hearts,  which,  by  that  crimson 
stain, 

Gave  token  of  a  trust  that  called  no  suffering 
vain. 

Those  days  are  past :  the  mountains  wear  no 

more 
The  solemn  splendor  of  the  martyr's  blood  ; 
And  may  that  awful  record,  as  of  yore, 
Never  again  be  known  to  field  or  flood  ! 

E'en  though  the  faithful  stood, 
A  noble  army,  in  the  exulting  sight 
Of    earth    and    heaven,   which    blessed  their 

battle  for  the  right ! 

But  many  a  martyrdom  by  hearts  unshaken 
Is  yet  borne  silently  in  homes  obscure  ; 
And  many  a  bitter  cup  is  meekly  taken  ; 
And  for  the  strength  whereby  the  just  and  pure 
Thus  steadfastly  endure, 


WEEPER!    HOW  BRIGHT  A   MORN! 

Glory  to  Him  whose  victory  won  that  dower,  — 
Him  from  whose  rising  streamed  that  robe  of 
spirit-power  ! 

Glory  to  Him  !   Hope  to  the  suffering  breast ! 
Light  to  the  nations  !     He  hath  rolled  away 
The   mists,  which,   gathering   into   deathlike 

Between  the  soul  and  heaven's  calm  ether  lay. 

His  love  hath  made  it  day 
With  those  that  sat  in  darkness.      Earth  and 

sea, 
Lift  up  glad  strains  for  man  by  truth  divine 

made  free  ! 


BHeeper!  to  tfjrc  Ijofo  Brtcjljt  a  fflom 
foas  gifcen ! 

By  Mrs.  HEMANS.  —  See  note  to  preceding.     The  following  sonnet  is 
upon  "  Man-  Magdalene  at  the  Sepulchre." 

|EEPER  !  to  thee  how  bright  a  morn 
was  given 
After  thy  long,  long  vigil  of  despair, 
When  that  high  voice  which  burial-rocks  had 
riven 
Thrilled  with  immortal  tones  the  silent  air! 
Never  did  clarion's  royal  blast  declare 
Such  tale  of  victory  to  a  breathless  crowd, 


236  ALL  IS  O'ER ;    THE  PAIN,   THE  SORRO 


ll\ 


As  the  deep  sweetness  of  one  word  could 
bear 
Into  thy  heart  of  hearts,  O  woman  !  bowed 
By  strong  affection's  anguish  !  one  low  word,  - 
"  Mary  !  "  —  and   all    the    triumph    wrung 
from  death 
Was  thus  revealed;  and  thou,  that  so  hadst 

erred, 
So  wept,  and  been  forgiven,  in  trembling  faith 
Didst  cast  thee  dowm  before  the  all-conquer- 
ing Son, 
Awed  by  the  mighty  gift  thy  tears  and  love 
had  won  ! 


$ttl  is  o'er;  tfjc  $am,  tfje  &orrofo* 

By  John  Moultrie,  who  was  born  Dec.  30,  1799;  educated  at  Eton 
and  Cambridge;  ordained  deacon  in  1825,  and  priest  soon  after;  and  en- 
tered the  living  of  Rugby  in  1828,  whicli  he  retained  until  his  death,  — 
from  disease  contracted  at  the  bedside  of  a  parishioner,  —  in  December, 
1874.  A  complete  edition  of  his  poems  was  published  after  his  death. 
Moir  characterizes  him  as  "a  poet  of  elegant  mind,  and  of  considerable 
pathetic  power."  Several  of  his  religious  poems  have  come  into  general 
use  as  hymns;  and  an  abridged  and  somewhat  altered  version  of  the  fol- 
lowing, comprising  only  the  first  three  and  the  last  verses,  is  adopted  in 
the  Hymnal  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  and  in  several  other 
hymnals. 

LL  is  o'er ;  the  pain,  the  sorrow, 
Human  taunts,  and  fiendish  spite  : 
Death  shall  be  despoiled  to-morrow 
Of  the  prey  he  grasps  to-night : 


ALL  TSO'ER;   THE  PAIN,   THE  SOR 

\  et  once  more,  to  seal  his  'loom, 
Christ  must  sleep  within  the  tomb. 

Close  and  still  the  cell  that  holds  Him, 
While  in  brief   repose  He  1; 

p  the  slumber  that  infolds  Him, 
Veiled  a  while  from  mortal  eyes,  — 

Slumber  such  as  needs  must  be 

After  hard-won  victory. 

Fierce  and  deadly  was  the  anguish 
Which  on  yonder  cross  He  bore : 

How  did  soul  and  body  languish 
Till  the  toil  of  death  was  o'er  ! 

But  that  toil,  so  fierce  and  dread, 

Bruised  and  crushed  the  serpent's  head. 

Whither  hath  His  soul  departed  ? 

Roams  it  on  some  blissful  shore, 
Where  the  meek  and  faithful-hearted, 

Vext  by  this  world's  hate  no  more, 
Wait  until  the  trump  of  doom 
Call  their  bodies  from  the  tomb  ? 

Or,  on  some  benignant  mission 
To  the  imprisoned  spirits  sent, 

Hath  He  to  their  dark  condition 
Gleams  of  hope  and  mercy  lent  ?  — 


238    ALL  IS  O'ER ;    THE  PAIN%    THE  SORROW. 

Souls  not  wholly  lost  of  old 
When  o'er  earth  the  deluge  rolled  ! 

Ask  no  more  :  the  abyss  is  deeper 
E'en  than  angels'  thoughts  may  scan. 

Come,  and  watch  the  Heavenly  Sleeper ; 
Come,  and  do  what  mortals  can,  — 

Reverence  meet  toward  Him  to  prove, 

Faith  and  trust  and  humble  love. 

Far  away,  amidst  the  regions 
Of  the  bright  and  balmy  East, 

Guarded  by  angelic  legions 

Till  death's  slumber  shall  have  ceased, 

(How  should  we  its  stillness  stir?) 

Lies  the  Saviour's  sepulchre. 

Far  away  ;  yet  thought  would  wander 
(Thought  by  faith's  sure  guidance  led) 

Farther  yet,  to  weep  and  ponder 
Over  that  sepulchral  bed. 

Thither  let  us  haste,  and  flee 

On  the  wings  of  fantasy. 

Haste,  from  every  clime  and  nation, 
Fervent  youth  and  reverent  age, 

Peasant,  prince,  —  each  rank  and  station,— 
Haste,  and  join  this  pilgrimage. 


All    IS  O'ER:    THE  PAIN,    THE  SORROW.    \ 

I    LSt  and  west,  and  south  and  north, 
Send  your  saintliest  spirits  forth. 

Mothers,  ere  the  curtain  clos 

Round  your  children's  sleep  to-night, 
Tell  them  how  their  Lord  repos 

Waiting  for  to-morrow's  light; 

Teach  their  dreams  to  Him  to  rove,  — 
Him  who  loved  them,  Him  they  love. 

Matron  grave,  and  blooming  maiden, 
Hoary  sage,  and  beardless  boy, 

Hearts  with  grief  and  care  o'erladen, 
Hearts  brimful  of  hope  and  joy, 

Come,  and  greet  in  death's  dark  hall 

Him  who  felt  with,  felt  for  all. 

Men  of  God,  devoutly  toiling 

This  world's  fetters  to  unbind, — 

Satan  of  his  prey  despoiling 

In  the  hearts  of  human  kind,  — 

Let  to-night  your  labors  cease  ; 

Give  your  careworn  spirits  peace. 

Ye  who  roam  our  seas  and  mountains, 
Messengers  of  love  and  light  ; 

Ye  who  guard  Truth's  sacred  fountains. 
Weary  day  and  wakeful  night  ; 


24O  ALL  LS  O'ER;    TLLE   rAIX,   THE  SORROW. 

Men  of  labor,  men  of  lore,  — 
Give  your  toils  and  studies  o'er. 

Dwellers  in  the  woods  and  valleys  ; 

Ye  of  meek  and  lowly  breast ; 
Ye  who,  pent  in  crowded  alleys, 

Labor  early,  late  take  rest,  — 
Leave  the  plough,  and  leave  the  loom  ; 
Meet  us  at  our  Saviour's  tomb. 

From  your  halls  of  stately  beauty, 
Sculptured  roof  and  marble  floor, 

In  this  work  of  Christian  duty 
Haste,  ye  rich,  and  join,  ye  poor : 

Mean  and  noble,  bond  and  free, 

Meet  in  frank  equality. 

Lo,  His  grave  !  —  the  gray  rock  closes 
O'er  that  virgin  burial-ground  : 

Near  it  breathe  the  garden-roses  ; 
Trees  funereal  droop  around, 

In  whose  boughs  the  small  birds  rest, 

And  the  stock-dove  builds  her  nest. 

And  the  morn  with  floods  of  splendor 
Fills  the  spicy  midnight  air ; 

Tranquil  sounds,  and  voices  tender, 
Speak  of  light  and  gladness  there  : 


ALL  IS  O'ER;   THE  PAIN%  THE  SORROW.  241 

Ne'er  was  living  thing,  I  wot, 

Which  our  Lord  regarded  not 

Bird,  and  beast,  and  insect  rover, 

E'en  the  lilies  of  the  field, 
Till  His  gentle  life  was  over, 

Heavenly  thought  to  Him  could  yield  : 
All  that  is,  to  Him  did  prove 
Food  for  wisdom,  food  for  love. 

But  the  hearts  that  bowed  before  Him 
Most  of  all  to  Him  were  dear  : 

Let  such  hearts  to-night  watch  o'er  Him 
Till  the  dayspring  shall  appear ; 

Then  a  brighter  sun  shall  rise 

Than  e'er  kindled  up  the  skies. 

All  night  long,  with  plaintive  voicing, 
Chant  His  requiem  soft  and  low  ; 

Loftier  strains  of  loud  rejoicing 

From  to-morrow's  harps  shall  flow  :  — 

"  Death  and  hell  at  length  are  slain  ; 

Christ  hath  triumphed,  Christ  doth  reign." 


242  'TWAS  NIGHT!  STILL  NIGHT! 


'Etoas  Ntjjfjt!  Still  Nigtjt! 

By  John  Henry  Newman,  D.D.,  born  in  London  in  1801;  gradu- 
ated at  Oxford  in  1820;  tutor  of  his  college  for  several  years;  incumbent 
of  St.  Mary's,  Oxford,  in  1828.  He  shared  with  Dr.  Pusey  the  leader- 
ship of  the  High-Church  party,  and  established  a  monastic  community  at 
Littlemore  in  1842.  He  was  the  author  of  some  of  the  most  vigorous  of 
the  "  Tracts  for  the  Times,"  and  exerted  a  powerful  influence  over  the 
young  men  at  Oxford.  In  October,  1845,  he  left  the  Established  Church 
for  the  Roman-Catholic  communion.  From  1854  to  1858  he  was  Rector 
of  the  Roman-Catholic  University  in  Dublin.  He  has  written  consider- 
able prose  on  ecclesiastical  and  controversial  subjects,  and  one  or  two 
volumes  of  verse. 

IWAS  night  !  still  night  ! 

A    solemn    silence   hung   upon    the 
scene  ; 

The  keen  bright  stars  shone  with  unclouded 
light, 
Calm  and  serene. 

Hushed  was  the  Tomb  ; 
The  heavy  stone  before  its  entrance  lay  : 
No  light  broke  in  upon  its  silent  gloom, 

No  starry  ray. 

The  moonlight  beamed ; 
It  hung  above  that  garden  soft  and  clear : 
Around    the    watchful     guard     its    radiance 
gleamed 

From  helm  and  spear. 


'TWAS  NIGHTl  STILL   NIGHT*.  243 

The  Tomb  was  scaled  : 
The  watch  patrolled  before  its  entrance  lone  ; 
The  bright  night  every  passing  step  revealed  ; 

None  neared  the  stone. 

Midnight  had  passed  ; 

The  stars  their  lustrous  shining  had  decreased, 
And  daybreak's  earliest  light  was  hastening 
fast 
In  the  pale  east. 

The  morning  star, 
Last  in  the  silent  Heaven,  withdrew  its  ray  ; 
And   the  white  dawn,  spreading  its   spectre 
light, 

Foretold  the  day. 

An  earthquake's  shock 
Just    at    the    break    of    morning    shook    the 

ground, 
And    echoed   from    that   rent  and    trembling- 
rock 
With  startling  sound. 

The  guards,  amazed, 
Fell  to  the  earth  in  wonder  and  affright ; 
And  round  the  astonished  spot  in  glory  blazed 

A  sudden  Light. 


244         'TWAS  NIGHT!  STILL   NIGHT! 

An  Angel  there 
Descended  from  the  tranquil  sky  : 
The  glory  of  his  presence  filled  the  air 

Ail-radiantly. 

He  rolled  away 
From  the  still  Sepulchre  the  massy  stone  ; 
And,  watching  silent  till  the  risen  day, 

He  sat  thereon. 


His  garments  white 
Shone  like  the  snow  in  its  unsullied  sheen  ; 
His  face   was  like  the  lightning's  gleaming 
light, 

Dazzlingly  seen. 

All,  all  around 
Was  silence  and  suspense  and  listening  dread  : 
The  stirless  watch  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground, 

Hushed  as  the  dead. 

At  break  of  day 
The    Saviour    burst    that    Cavern's   stillness 

deep, 
Rising  in   conquest  from   Death's  shattered 
sway 
As  from  a  sleep. 


/A///.,   DAY  01   JOYOUS  REST!         245 

I  [e  rose  in  Tower, 
In  all  the  Strength  of  Godhead  shining  bright, 
Fresh  as  that  hallowed  Morning's  dewy  hour, 

Pure  as  its  light 

He  n>sc  as  God, 
Rose  as  a  mighty  Victor  strong  to  save, 
Breaking  Death's  silent  chain  and  unseen  rod 

There  in  the  Grave. 

He  rose  on  high, 
While  Angels  hung  around  on  soaring  wing, 
Wresting  from  the  dark  Grave  its  victory, 

From  Death  its  sting. 


5?atl,  Bau  of  Soootts  ftcst ! 

By  Henry  Trend.  P.P.,  born  at  Pevonport  Sept.  T4,  1804;  edu- 
cated at  Bristol  and  at  the  University  of  Giessen;  for  many  years  princi- 
pal of  a  grammar-school  at  Bridge  water;  Curate  of  Cannington,  and 
subsequently  Minister  of  the  Donative  of  Durleigh.  The  latter  appoint- 
ment he  held  as  late  as  1869.  He  is  the  author  of  some  rather  free  but 
very  happy  translations  of  old  Latin  hymns,  and  of  some  original  hymns, 
contributed  to  Mr.  Shipley's  "  Lyrae,"  the  "  People's  Hymnal,"  ice.  The 
following  i>  from  the  "  Lyra  Messianica." 


ill 


AIL,  day  of  joyous  rest, 

On  which  our  Lord  arose  ! 
Now  every  Christian  breath 
With  sacred  pleasure  glows  ; 


246  HAIL,   DAY  OF  JOYOUS  REST! 

And  every  Christian  tongue  should  sing 
An  Easter-song  to  Sion's  King. 

Ah  !  erst,  on  midnight  ground, 

In  sorrow  He  was  found 

Bedewed  with  His  own  Blood, 

While  crying  unto  God  : 
Strange  was  that  bitter  agony 
He  felt  in  thee,  Gethsemane  ! 

And  on  the  mystic  Cross 

He  suffered  wondrous  loss ; 

Midst  pain  and  foul  disgrace 

His  Father  hid  His  face ; 
And  earth  and  hell  were  active  then 
To  crush  the  Friend  of  friendless  men. 

He  died  ;  and  Joseph's  tomb 

Gave  the  predicted  room 

To  bury  Him  ;  and  there 

With  stern  and  jealous  care, 
To  make  it  sure,  they  sealed  the  stone, 
And  left  Him  with  their  guards  alone. 

But  all  their  craft  and  power 
Availed  them  not  that  hour : 
The  appointed  time  was  come, 
And  forthwith  from  the  tomb 


ARISE,  MY  SOUL,   ARISE!  247 

He  rose  ;   for,  lo  !   the  astonished  rock 
Was  shivered  as  by  earthquake-shock. 

Jesus  left  the  grave, 

And  took  His  life  again  ; 
And  now  He  lives  to  save 

The  dying  sons  of  men  : 
Let  His  triumphant  praise  be  sung 
Through  every  land,  by  every  tongue. 


&rtsc,  mu  Soul,  arise! 

By  M^.  Sarah  Flower  Adams,  who  was  born  in  Cambridge  Feb. 
S  ;  and  died  Aug.  13,  1849.  She  was  the  daughter  of  an  editor,  and 
the  wife  of  William  Bridges  Adams,  an  eminent  engineer,  and  contributor 
to  journals  and  reviews.  She  contributed  prose  and  poetry  to  the  periodi- 
cals, and  published  a  dramatic  poem,  but  is  most  widely  known  by  her 
hymns,  and  particularly  by  that  one  beginning,  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to 
Thee,"  which  has  become  the  property  of  the  Church  universal 


1RISE, 

My  soul,  arise ! 
Sing,  with  thy  latest  breath, 
Christ's  conquest  over  death. 
Arise, 
My  soul,  arise  ! 
Sing  it  unto  the  skies  ; 
Sing  it  over  the  earth,  and  under  ; 


248  ARISE,   MY  SOUL,    ARISE  I 

There,  'mongst  the  myriad  graves 
Of  kings  or  slaves, 
Let  the  song  pierce  their  urns  asunder. 
Arise, 
Our  souls,  arise  ! 
In  heaven  the  angel-band 
Stand  ready,  —  in  each  hand 

A  palm  to  wave  ; 
On  earth  a  listening  throng 
Wait  the  redeeming  song, 

Their  souls  to  save ; 
Below,  all  silently, 
The  dead  attend  the  cry  : 
O  grave ! 
Where  is  thy  victory  ? 
The  branches  wave ; 
Our  Lord  hath  risen  on  high ! 

O  death  ! 
Where  is  thy  sting  ? 
The  dust  beneath 
Stirs  while  we  sing. 
O  grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  ? 
O  death  !  where  is  thy  sting ! 
Arise, 
Our  souls,  arise ! 


710  HIM  WHO  FOR  OCR  SINS  WAS  SLA IX.    241 ) 


<To  J?tm  foljo  for  our  Sins  tons  slain. 

By  Arthi  bora  at  Northampton  M-m-.h  20,  1806; 

graduated  at  Cambridge;   ordained  priest  in  1830  :   appointed  Vi 
Caxton  m  the  same  year;   and  afterward  incumbent  of  th< 
Whaddon,  of  Toxteth  Park,  near  Liverpool,  and  of  Wellington,  Salop. 
He  has  written  and  edited  several  volumes  of  hymn?,  and  ha*  also  pub- 
lished several  books  of  sermons  and  essays. 

|flhjw|  O  Him  who  for  our  sins  was  slain, 

lEH  wfli  ^°  ^*m>  ^or  a^  His  dying  pain, 
Kr^FrfH  Sins:  we  Alleluia! 


To  Him  the  Lamb  our  Sacrifice, 
Who  gave  His  blood  our  ransom-price, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Him  who  died  that  we  might  die 
To  sin,  and  live  with  Him  on  high, 

Sing  wre  Alleluia ! 

To  Him  who  rose  that  we  might  rise, 
And  reign  with  Him  beyond  the  skies, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Him  who  now  for  us  doth  plead, 
And  helpeth  us  in  all  our  need, 

Sin<r  we  Alleluia  ! 


250     IN  THE    TOMB,   BEHOLD,   HE  LIES. 

To  Him  who  doth  prepare  on  high 
Our  home  in  immortality, 

Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Him  be  glory  evermore ; 
Ye  heavenly  hosts,  your  Lord  adore  : 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
Our  God  most  great,  our  joy,  our  boast, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 


In  tfje  Comb,  fcrfjoto,  P?e  lies. 

By  Arthur  Tozer  Russell.  —  See  note  to  preceding. 

N  the  tomb,  behold,  He  lies 
Who  the  dead  awaketh  : 
Christ,  our  stricken  sacrifice, 
Of  sweet  rest  partaketh. 

Fear  we,  then,  no  more  the  gloom 
Of  Death's  narrow  dwelling  : 

Jesus  died  !  the  wondering  tomb 
Of  His  praise  is  telling. 

Vainly  shall  His  foes  rejoice, 
Vainly  Death  detain  Him  : 


M   THY  GLORIOUS  RESURRECTION.     251 

Lazarus  heard  His  wakening  voice: 
What  can,  then,  restrain  Him  ? 

What  shall  bind  His  conquering  arm 

Who  the  mountains  rencleth, 
And,  that  He  may  Death  disarm, 
To  the  tomb  descendeth  ? 


hi  £iju  glorious  ftcsurrcction- 


By  Bishop  Christopher  Wordsworth,  born  in  1807;  graduated  at 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  with  high  honors,  in  1830;  received  prie>t"> 
orders  in  1835;  head  master  of  Harrow  School  in  1836;  Canon  of  West- 
minster Abbey  in  1844;  Vicar  of  Stanford-in-the-Vale,  Berks,  in  1850; 
Archdeacon  of  Westminster  in  1865;  Bishop  of  Lincoln  in  1868.  He  has 
written  much  in  prose,  and  has  published  a  volume  of  hymns,  entitled 
"  Holy  Vc.ir,"  from  which  the  following  is  taken.  He  is  a  nephew  of 
William  Wordsworth. 


|N  Thy  glorious  Resurrection, 
Lord,  we  see  a  world's  erection  ; 
Man  in  Thee  is  glorified  : 
Bliss  for  which  the  Patriarchs  panted, 
Joys  by  ancient  sages  chanted, 
Now  in  Thee  are  verified. 

Oracles  of  former  ages, 
Veiled  in  dim  prophetic  pages, 
Now  lie  open  to  the  sight  ; 


252     IN  THY  GLORIOUS  RESURRECTION. 

Now  the  Types,  which  glimmered  darkling 
In  the  twilight  gloom,  are  sparkling 
In  the  blaze  of  noonday  light. 

Isaac  from  the  wood  is  risen  ; 
Joseph  issues  from  the  prison ; 

See  the  Paschal  Lamb  which  saves ; 
Israel  through  the  sea  is  landed ; 
Pharaoh  and  his  hosts  are  stranded, 

And  o'erwhelmed  in  the  waves. 

See  the  cloudy  Pillar  leading, 
Rock  refreshing,  Manna  feeding  ; 

Joshua  fights,  and  Moses  prays  : 
See  the  lifted  wave-sheaf,  cheering,  — 
Pledge  of  Harvest-fruits  appearing, 

Joyful  dawn  of  happy  days. 

Samson  see  at  night  uptearing 
Gaza's  brazen  gates,  and  bearing 

To  the  top  of  Hebron's  hill ; 
Jonah  comes  from  stormy  surges, 
From  his  three-days'  grave  emerges, 

Bids  beware  of  coming  ill. 

Thus  Thy  Resurrection  glory 
Sheds  a  light  on  ancient  story ; 
And  it  casts  a  forward  ray,  — 


IN   THY  GLORIOl/S  RESURRECTION. 

on-light  of  solemn  warning, 

To  the  dawn  of  that  great  morning, 

Ushering  in  the  Judgment-Day. 

Ever  since  Thy  death  and  rising, 
Thou  the  nations  art  baptizing 

In  Thy  death's  similitude: 
Dead  to  sin,  and  ever  dying, 
And  our  members  mortifying, 

May  we  walk  with  life  renewed  ! 

Forth  from  Thy  first  Easter  going, 
Sundays  are  forever  flowing 

Onward  to  a  boundless  sea  : 
Lord,  may  they  for  Thee  prepare  us, 
On  a  holy  river  bear  us 

To  a  calm  eternity  ! 

Glory  be  to  God  the  Father ; 
And  to  Him  who  all  does  gather 

In  Himself,  the  Eternal  Son, 
And  the  dead  to  life  upraises  ; 
And  to  Holy  Ghost  be  praises  : 

Glory  to  the  Three  in  One  ! 


254  THE    TOMB  IS  EMPTY. 


&f)e  &omb  is  lEmptg :  tooutost  tfjou  fjafoe 
it  JTull? 

By  Horatius  Bonar,  D.D.,  born  at  Edinburgh  in  1808.  He  gradu- 
ated at  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and  was  ordained  to  the  ministry  in 
1837,  and  since  that  time  has  been  pastor  at  Kelso.  He  joined  the  Free 
Church  of  Scotland  in  1843.  He  is  the  author  of  numerous  prose  works 
of  a  devotional  character,  and  of  three  series  of  "  Hymns  of  Faith  and 
Hope." 

jjHE    tomb    is    empty  :    wouldst    thou 
have  it  full, 
Still  sadly  clasping  the  unbreathing 
clay  ? 
O  weak  in  faith,  O  slow  of  heart,  and  dull, 
To  dote  on  darkness,  and  shut  out  the  day  ! 

The  tomb  is  empty  :  He  who  three  short  days, 
After  a  sorrowing  life's  long  weariness, 
Found  refuge  in  this  rocky  resting-place, 
Has  now  ascended  to  the  throne  of  bliss. 

Here  lay  the  Holy  One,  the  Christ  of  God  ; 
He  who  for  death  gave  death,  and  life  for  life  ; 
Our  heavenly  Kinsman,  our  true   flesh   and 

blood ; 
Victor  for  us  on  hell's  dark  field  of  strife. 


THE    TOMB   is  EMPTY. 

This  was  the  Bethel,  where,  on  stony  bed, 
While  angels  came  and  went   from   morn  till 

even, 
Our  truer  Jacob  laid  his  wearied  head  : 
This  was  to  him  the  very  gate  of  heaven. 

The   Conqueror,   not  the    conquered,   He    to 
whom 

The  keys  of  death  and  of  the  grave  belong, 
Crossed  the  cold  threshold  of  the   stranger's 

tomb, 
To  spoil  the  spoiler,  and  to  bind  the  strong. 

Here  Death  had  reigned  :  into  no  tomb  like 

this 
Had  man's  fell  foe  aforetime  found  his  way  ; 
So  grand  a  trophy  ne'er  before  was  his, 
So  vast  a  treasure,  so  divine  a  prey. 

But  no  :  his   triumph   ends  ;  the   rock-barred 

door 
Is  opened  wide,  and  the  Great  Prisoner  gone  : 
Look  round  and  see,  upon  the  vacant  floor, 
The  napkin  and  the  grave-clothes  lie  alone. 

Yes:    Death's   last   hope,    his   strongest   fort 

and  prison, 
Is  shattered,  never  to  be  built  again  ; 


256  THE    TOMB   IS  EMPTY. 

And  He,  the  mighty  Captive,  He  is  risen, 
Leaving  behind  the  gate,  the  bar,  the  chain. 

Yes,  He  is  risen  who  is  the  First  and  Last  ; 
Who  was  and  is  ;  who  liveth,  and  was  dead  : 
Beyond  the  reach  of  death  He  now  has  passed, 
Of  the  one  glorious  Church  the  glorious  Head. 

The  tomb  is  empty  :  so,  ere  long,  shall  be 
The  tombs  of  all  who  in  this  Christ  repose  : 
They  died  with  Him  who  died  upon  the  tree ; 
They  live  and  rise  with  Him  wrho  lived  and 
rose. 

Death  has  not  slain  them  ;  they  are  freed,  not 

slain  ; 
It  is  the  gate  of  life,  and  not  of  death, 
That  they  have  entered  ;    and   the  grave  in 

vain 
Has  tried  to  stifle  the  immortal  breath. 

All  that  was  death  in  them  is  now  dissolved  ; 
For  death  can  only  what  is  death's  destroy  ; 
And,  when  this  earth's  short  ages  have  re- 
volved, 
The  disimprisoned  life  comes  forth  with  joy. 

Their  life-long  battle  with  disease  and  pain 
And  mortal  weariness  is  over  now  : 


THE   CALM  0/    BLESSED  NIGHT. 

Youth,  health,  and  comeliness  return  again  ; 
The   tear   has    left    the   cheek,  the    sweat    the 
brow. 

They  are  not  tasting  death,  but  taking  rest 

On  the  same  holy  couch  where  Jesus  lay, 

Soon  to  awake  all  glorified  and  blest, 

When  day  has  broke,  and  shadows  tied  away. 


Z\\z  Claim  of  ilrssrti  Xtgfjt 


By  Henry  Ai.ford.  D.D.,  late  Dean  of  Canterbury,  who  was  born 
in  London  in  1S10,  and  died  Jan.  12.  1S71.  He  graduated  at  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  and  won  a  high  reputation  as  a  sound  and  eloquent 
preacher,  and  a  biblical  critic.  He  was  appointed  Dean  of  Canterbury 
in  1S57.  He  published  several  volumes  of  sermons,  a  volume  of 
on  the  Greek  Poets,  and  two  volumes  of  poetry.  He  edited  a  hymnal 
called  "The  Year  of  Praise,"  to  which  he  contributed  fifty-five  hymns. 
The  great  work  of  his  life  was  the  Greek  Testament,  with  Notes,  and  the 
New  Testament  for  English  Readers,  —  which  are  among  the  most  valua- 
ble products  of  biblical  scholarship. 


HE  calm  of  blessed  Xight 
Is  on  Judaea's  hills  ; 
The  full-orbed  moon  with   cloudless 
light 
Is  sparkling  on  their  rills  : 
One  spot  above  the  rest 

Is  still  and  tranquil  seen,  — 


258        THE    CALM  OF  BLESSED  NLGHT. 

The  chamber  as  of  something  blest 
Amidst  its  bowers  of  green. 

Around  that  spot  each  way 

The  figures  ye  may  trace 
Of  men-at-arms  in  grim  array, 

Girding  the  solemn  place  : 
But  other  bands  are  there  ; 

And,  glistening  through  the  gloom, 
Legions  of  angels,  bright  and  fair, 

Throng  to  that  wondrous  tomb. 

"  Praise  be  to  God  on  high  ! 

The  triumph-hour  is  near  ; 
The  Lord  hath  won  the  victory  ; 

The  foe  is  vanquished  here  ! 
Dark  Grave,  yield  up  the  dead  ! 

Give  up  thy  prey,  thou  Earth  ! 
In  death  He  bowed  His  sacred  head  ; 

He  springs  anew  to  birth  ! 

Sharp  was  the  wreath  of  thorns 

Around  His  suffering  brow  ; 
But  glory  rich  His  head  adorns, 

And  Angels  crown  Him  now. 
Roll  yonder  rock  away 

That  bars  the  marble  gate, 
And  gather  we  in  bright  array 

To  swell  the  Victor's  state. 


CHRIST  is  RISENl     ALLELUIA  I        2$() 

Hail,  hail,  hail  I 

The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  ! 
The  curse  is  made  of   none  avail  : 
The  sons  of  men  are  freed  !  " 


Christ  is  risen!    alleluia! 

By  John  S.  B.  MONSBLL,  born  at  Derry  in  1811.  His  father  was 
Archdeacon  of  Derry,  and  Precentor  of  Christ-Church  Cathedral.  The 
iluatcd  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  in  1832;  was  ordained  deacon 
in  1834,  and  priest  in  the  year  following.  He  was  for  a  time  Rector  of 
Ramoan,  and  Chancellor  of  the  diocese  of  Connor;  but  since  1853  has 
been  Vicar  of  Egham.  He  has  written  much  in  prose  and  verse;  and  his 
"  Hymns  of  Love  and  Praise  for  the  Christian  Year,"  from  which  the 
following  is  taken,  are  deservedly  popular. 

[HRIST  is  risen!     Alleluia! 
Risen  our  victorious  Head  ! 
Sing  His  praises  !     Alleluia  ! 
Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead  ! 
Gratefully  our  hearts  adore  Him, 

As  His  light  once  more  appears, 
Bowing  down  in  joy  before  Him, 
Rising  up  from  grief  and  tears. 
Christ  is  risen  !     Alleluia  ! 

Risen  our  victorious  Head  ! 
Sing  his  praises  !     Alleluia  ! 
Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead  ! 


260         CHRIST  IS  RISEN!     ALLELUIA! 

Christ  is  risen  !  all  the  sadness 

Of  our  Lenten  fast  is  o'er ; 
Through  the  open  gates  of  gladness 

He  returns  to  life  once  more  : 
Death  and  hell  before  Him  bending, 

He  doth  rise  the  victor  now, 
Angels  on  His  steps  attending, 

Glory  round  His  wounded  brow. 
Christ  is  risen  !     Alleluia! 

Christ  is  risen  !  all  the  sorrow 

That -last  evening  round  Him  lay 
Now  hath  found  a  glorious  morrow 

In  the  rising  of  to-day ; 
And  the  grave  its  first-fruits  giveth, 

Springing  up  from  holy  ground  : 
He  was  dead,  but  now  He  liveth  ; 

He  was  lost,  but  He  is  found. 
Christ  is  risen  !     Alleluia  ! 

Christ  is  risen  !  henceforth  never 

Death  or  hell  shall  us  inthrall ; 
Be  we  Christ's,  in  Him  forever 

We  have  triumphed  over  all ; 
All  the  doubting  and  dejection 

Of  our  trembling  hearts  have  ceased 
Tis  His  day  of  resurrection  ; 

Let  us  rise,  and  keep  the  feast. 


AWAKE,   GLAD  SOUL  t  26l 

Christ  is  risen  !     Alleluia  ! 
Risen  our  victorious  I  lead  ! 

Sing  His  praises!      Alleluia! 
Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead  ! 


Stoafcr,  Glatj  Sotill  atnafte  I  afoakc 


By  Rev.  J-::  >ell.  —  See  note  to  the  preceding  hymn. 

From  his  "  Hymns  of  Love  and  Praise." 

|WAKE,  glad  soul!  awake!  awake! 
Thy  Lord  hath  risen  long  : 
Go  to  His  grave,  and  with  thee  take 
Both  tuneful  heart  and  song  : 
Where  life  is  waking  all  around, 

Where  love's  sweet  voices  sincr, 
The  first  bright  Blossom  may  be  found 
Of  an  Eternal  Spring. 


O  Love  which  lightens  all  distress, 

Love  death  cannot  destroy  ! 
O  Grave,  whose  very  emptiness 

To  Faith  is  full  of  joy  ! 
Let  but  that  Love  our  hearts  supply 

From  Heaven's  exhaustless  Spring, 
Then,  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

And,  Death,  where  is  thy  stii 


262  AWAKE,    GLAD   SOUL! 

The  shade  and  gloom  of  life  are  fled 

This  Resurrection-day  ; 
Henceforth  in  Christ  are  no  more  dead, 

The  grave  hath  no  more  prey : 
In  Christ  we  live,  in  Christ  we  sleep, 

In  Christ  we  wake  and  rise  ; 
And  the  sad  tears  death  makes  us  weep 

He  wipes  from  all  our  eyes. 

And  every  bird  and  every  tree, 

And  every  opening  flower, 
Proclaim  His  glorious  victory, 

His  resurrection-power  : 
The  folds  are  glad ;  the  fields  rejoice, 

With  vernal  verdure  spread  ; 
The  little  hills  lift  up  their  voice, 

And  shout  that  Death  is  dead. 

Then  wake,  glad  heart !  awake  !  awake  ! 

And  seek  thy  risen  Lord, 
Joy  in  His  resurrection  take, 

And  comfort  in  His  word : 
And  let  thy  life,  through  all  its  ways, 

One  long  thanksgiving  be  ; 
Its  theme  of  joy,  its  song  of  praise, — 

"  Christ  died  and  rose  for  me." 


ALL   HAIL  '.    DEAR  EROR 


263 


311  liatl !   Dear  (Conqueror !   all  Ijatl 


By  Frederick  William   Faber,  I).I>.,  bom  June  28, 

II'     was    the    author   of   some   of  the    DOOSt  fervent  and 

ful  hymns  in  the  lang  graduated  at  Oxford  in  1  - 

fellow.     He  n  I  priest 

,.     In  1843  he  becai  Elton,  in  Huntingdonshire;  and 

two  years  later,  after  a  lon_r  mental  struggle,  lie  joined  the  Roman-Catho- 
lic Church.  In  1849  he  established  the  Brotherhood  of  the  London 
"  Oratorians;  "  which  was  removed  in  1854  to  Brompton,  at  whiei. 
Faber  resided  until  his  death.  The  li.^t  of  his  works  includes  sever. d 
books  in  prose,  of  a  devotional  order,  sermons,  etc.,  and  five  vol.: 
poetry,  mosdy  religious.  There  is  an  American  edition  of  his  hymns, 
collected  from  these  volumes. 


LL  hail  !  dear  Conqueror !  all  hail  ! 
Oh,  what  a  victory  is  Thine  ! 
How  beautiful  Thy  Strength  appears  ! 
Thy  crimson  Wounds,  how  bright 
they  shine  ! 


Down,  down,  all  lofty  things  on  earth, 
And  worship  Him  with  joyous  dread  ! 

O  Sin  !  thou  art  outdone  by  love  ! 
O  Death  !   thou  art  discomfited  ! 


Ye  Heavens,  how  sang  they  in  your  courts, 
How  sang  the  angelic  choir  that  day, 

When  from  His  tomb  the  imprisoned  God, 
Like  the  strong  sunrise,  broke  away  ? 


264  JESUS!   IN  SPICES    WRAPPED. 

Oh  !   I  am  burning  so  with  love, 
I  fear  lest  I  should  make  too  free : 

Let  me  be  silent,  and  adore 
Thy  glorified  Humanity. 

Ah  !  now  Thou  sendest  me  sweet  tears  : 
Fluttered  with  love,  my  spirits  fail. 

What  shall  I  say  ?     Thou  knowest  my  heart. 
All  hail!  dear  Conqueror!  all  hail  ! 


Srstts!  in  Spiers  forapprt,  anlr  latlr. 

By  Frederick  William  Faber,  D.D.  —  See  note  to  the  preceding 
hymn.  The  following  is  from  the  poem  on  "  The  Life  of  Our  Lord," 
being  a  portion  of  the  fifth  section,  which  relates  "  what  was  done  after 
His  death,  burial,  resurrection,  ascension,  session,  and  second  advent." 

j|ESUS  !  in  spices  wrapped,  and  laid 
Within  the  garden's  rocky  shade, 
By  jealous  seals  made  sure, 
Embalm  me  with  Thy  grace,  and  hide 
Thy  servant  in  Thy  wounded  Side, 
A  heavenly  sepulture  ! 

Jesus  !  who  to  the  spirits  went 
And  preached  the  new  enfranchisement 
Thy  recent  death  had  won, 


JESUS  I  IN  SPICES   WRAPPED.  265 

Absolve  me,  Lord!  and  set  me  £1 
From  self  and  sin,  that  I  may  be 
Bondsman  to  Thee  alone. 

Jesus  !  who  from  the  dead  arose, 

And  straightway  sought  to  comfort  those 

Whose  weak  faith  mourned  for  Thee, 
Oh,  may  I  rise  from  sin  and  earth, 
And  so  make  good  that  second  birth 

Which  Thou  hast  wrought  in  me  ! 

Jesus  !  who  wert  at  Emmaus  known 
In  breaking  bread,  and  thus  art  shown 

Unto  Thy  people  now, 
Oh,  may  my  heart  within  me  burn 
When  at  the  Altar  I  discern 

Thy  Body,  Lord,  and  bow  ! 

Jesus  !  amid  yon  olives  hoar, 
Thy  forty  days  of  sojourn  o'er, 

Thou  didst  ascend  on  high  : 
Oh,  thither  may  my  heart  and  mind 
Ascend,  their  home  and  harbor  find, 

With  Jesus  in  the  sky  ! 


266    SABBATH  OF  THE  SAINTS  OF  OLD- 


Saboatfj  of  tfje  Saints  of  ©to. 

By  Rev.  Thomas  Whytehead,  born  at  Thorraanby,  York,  in  1815; 
died  in  New  Zealand  in  1842.  He  graduated  at  Cambridge,  and  among 
his  university  honors  was  the  chancellor's  medal  for  English  verse.  He 
was  appointed  chaplain  to  the  Bishop  of  New  Zealand,  but  died  soon 
after  reaching  his  post.  The  following  hymn  is  abridged  and  altered  by 
the  compilers  of  "  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern."  The  complete  hymn 
as  given  below  is  contained  in  Mrs.  Alexander's  "  Sunday  Book  of 
Poetry/' 

f ABBATH  of  the  saints  of  old, 
Day  of  mysteries  manifold, 
By  the  great  Creator  blest, 
Type  of  His  eternal  rest, 

I  with  thoughts  of  thee  would  seek 

To  sanctify  the  closing  week. 

Resting  from  His  work,  the  Lord 
Spake  to-day  the  hallowing  word  ; 
And,  His  wondrous  labors  done, 
Now  the  everlasting  Son 
Gave  to  heaven  and  earth  the  sign 
Of  a  wonder  more  divine. 

Resting  from  His  work  to-day, 
In  the  tomb  the  Saviour  lav ; 


3ATH  OF  THE  SAINTS  OF  OLD.     2C)J 

His  sacred  form,  from  head  to  feet, 

Swathed  in  the  winding-sheet, 
Lying  in  the  rock  alone, 

Hid  beneath  the  sealed  stone. 

All  the  seventh  day  long,  I  ween, 

Mournful  watched  the  Magdalene, 
Rising  early,  resting  late, 
By  the  sepulchre  to  wait, 
In  the  holy  garden  glade, 
Where  her  buried  Lord  was  laid. 

So  with  Thee,  till  life  shall  end, 
I  would  solemn  vigil  spend  : 
Let  me  hew  Thee,  Lord,  a  shrine 
In  this  rocky  heart  of  mine, 
Where,  in  pure  embalmed  cell, 
None  but  Thou  mayst  ever  dwell. 

Myrrh  and  spiees  I  will  bring, 

My  poor  affection's  offering, 

Close  the  door  from  sight  and  sound 

Of  the  busy  world  around, 

And  in  patient  watch  remain 

Till  my  Lord  appear  again. 

Then,  the  new  creation  done, 
Shall  be  Thy  endless  rest  begun  : 


268     WHAT  SAID  HE,  MARY,  UNTO   THEE? 

Jesu,  keep  me  safe  from  sin, 
That  I  with  them  may  enter  in, 
And  danger  past,  and  toil  at  end, 
To  Thy  resting-place  ascend. 


"GEijat  sat*  p?e,  flarg,  unto  t\)ttV9 

By  Dora  Greenwell,  who  was  born  early  in  the  present  century. 
She  is  the  author  of  several  volumes  of  verse,  among  them  "  Christina 
and  Other  Poems,"  "  Stories  That  Might  be  True,"  and  "  Carmina 
Crucis,"  from  the  last  of  which  the  following  is  taken.  She  has  written 
also  one  or  two  books  of  essays. 

HAT  said  He,  Mary,  unto  thee  ?   % 
For  it  was  thine  His  voice  to  hear, 
When  thou  wert  waiting  in  the  gloom 
Of  twilight  dawn,  and  by  the  tomb  : 
He  talked  with  thee  when  none  were  near. 
Oh,  happy  thus  thy  Lord  to  see  ! 
What  said  He,  Mary,  unto  thee?" 

"  Few  words  He  said  to  me  :  I  hide 
Each  word  He  said  within  my  heart. 
Fain  had  I  won  Him  to  abide  ; 
Yet  soon  I  knew  that  I  must  part 
With  Him,  my  Master,  Lord,  and  Guide. 
I  met  His  eye  ;  His  voice  I  heard  ; 
I  saw  His  wounded  hands  and  feet  : 


WHAT  SAID  IU\  MARYX  UNTO  TH 

He  called  me  by  my  name;  no  word 
Was  ever  to  my  soul  so  sweet  ; 
And  by  His  tomb  He  hade  me  stay 
Until  the  breaking  of  the  day  '  " 

"  But  see,  the  hills  are  all  aglow  ! 
The  sunrise  cleaves  its  path  of  gold 

Through  many  a  darkened  valley  low, 

And  tires  the  mountain  summits  cold. 

What  Mowers  unclose!  what  herbs  of  price! 

What  costly  gums  for  sacrifice 

Are  dropping  now  ! "  —  4t  The  hills  are  high  : 

I  cannot  reach  them,  lest  I  die  ; 

And  by  His  cross  He  bade  me  dwell 

Until  the  evening  shadows  fell." 

"Yet  rise  ;  thy  Lord  hath  risen  !     Behold, 

From  Hades  now  He  bears  away 

The  gates,  and  snatches  from  the  hold 

Of  death  and  sin  a  mighty  prey  : 

His  soul  hath  passed  afar  !  to  Him 

The  darkness  shines  as  doth  the  day. 

Why  linger  'mid  the  shadows  dim  ? 

Why  watch  the  place  where  Jesus  lay  ?  " 

side  His  tomb,  beside  His  cross, 
lie  bade  me  rest  !     Ye  speak  in  vain, 
Who  have  not  known  my  gain  nor  loss. 
The  .Master's  words  are  kind  and  plain  : 


270     WHAT  SAID  HE,  MARY,  UNTO  THEE? 

He  calls  the  wounded  not  to  pain, 
The  weary  unto  conflict  sore  ; 
He  bids  the  wayworn  not  again 
Retrace  their  fruitless  wanderings  o'er. 
He  led  me  to  this  place  !     He  knew 
My  soul  upon  the  burning  plain 
Where  riseth  from  the  earth  no  dew, 
Where  falleth  from  the  heavens  no  rain  ; 
He  tracked  my  steps  'mid  forests  old 
And  tangled,  where  the  flowers  awake 
In  torrid  midnight  gloom,  and  hold 
Death's  revel  in  the  jungle-brake  ; 
Yea !  He  hath  known  my  soul  in  cold, 
The  deadly  frost  that  none  can  bide  ; 
The  formless  vapors,  white  and  dim, 
Became  my  shroud,  and  yet  from  Him 
Concealed  me  not !     Whate'er  betide, 
I  clasp  the  cross  !     The  earth  is  wide 
And  drear  and  old  ;  the  heavens  are  far  ! 
For  guide  to  me  He  gave  no  star; 
But  near  His  cross  He  bade  me  stay 
Until  the  shadows  fled  away. 

"To  me  He  said  not,  'Thou  shalt  rise 
With  Me,  thy  risen  Lord,  this  day, 
And  be  with  Me  in  Paradise  : ' 
Beside  the  cross  He  bade  me  stay. 
He  met  me  in  the  garden's  gloom  ; 


THE  FOE  BEHIND,  THE  DEEP  BBFORl         I 

Hut  to  that  garden  sweet  and  dim, 
(  )r  through  its  angel-guarded  gate, 
He  sent  me  not     I  wait  for  Him 
Beside  His  cross,  beside  His  tomb; 
I  wait  for  Him,  my  soul  doth  wait, 
And  by  the  cross  I  will  abide, 
And  keep  the  word  my  Lord  hath  given. 
Except  the  cross,  and  Him  who  died 
Upon  it,  now  in  earth  or  heaven 
What  own  I,  claim  I  ?      Now  below 
I  seek  no  further  ;  here  is  woe 
Assuaged  forever:  now  above 
I  look  no  longer  ;  here  is  love  !" 


Z\)z  jfoc  bcijtntr,  tfje  Deep  before* 

By  John  Mason  Xeale,  D.D.,  born  in  1818;  graduated  at  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge,  in  1840;  died  Aug.  8,  i860.  He  was  early  elected 
warden  of  Sackville  College,  and  retained  that  position  to  the  date  of  his 
death.  He  was  the  author  of  several  important  historical  works;  of  three 
or  four  books  of  fiction,  now  forgotten;  of  some  original  hymns,  of  which 
the  following  is  the  most  noteworthy  ;  and  of  some  beautiful  translations 
from  the  mediaeval  Latin,  and  the  Greek,  which  are  perhaps  the  richest 
legacy  to  the  Christian  Church  that  any  translator  has  left.  The  "  Lyra 
Britannica  "  contains  the  following  hymn,  with  six  additional  stanzas;  but, 
as  these  are  greatly  inferior  to  the  portion  here  given,  it  has  seemed  best 
to  present  the  hymn  in  its  usual  form. 

[HE  foe  behind,  the  deep  before, 
Our  hosts  have  dared  and  passed 
the  sea; 


2J 2   THE  FOE  BEHIND,   THE  DEEP  BEFORE. 

And  Pharaoh's  warriors  strew  the  shore, 
And  Israel's  ransomed  tribes  are  free. 
Lift  up,  lift  up  your  voices  now  ! 
The  whole  wide  world  rejoices  now ! 
The  Lord  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 
The  Lord  shall  reign  victoriously  ! 
Happy  morrow, 
Turning  sorrow 
Into  peace  and  mirth  ! 
Bondage  ending, 
Love  descending 
O'er  the  earth ! 
Seals  assuring, 
Guards  securing, 
Watch  His  earthly  prison  : 
Seals  are  shattered, 
Guards  are  scattered, 
Christ  hath  risen  ! 


No  longer  must  the  mourners  weep, 
Nor  call  departed  Christians  dead ; 
For  death  is  hallowed  into  sleep, 
And  every  grave  becomes  a  bed. 

Now  once  more 

Eden's  door 
Open  stands  to  mortal  eyes  ; 
For  Christ  hath  risen,  and  men  shall  rise. 


THE  FOE  BEHIND,   Till-:  DEEP  BEI 

Now  at  last, 

( )U1  things  | 
Hope  and  joy  and  peace  begin  ; 
For  Christ  hath  won,  and  man  shall  win. 

It  is  not  exile,  rest  on  high  ; 

It  is  not  sadness,  peace  from  strife; 
To  fall  asleep  is  not  to  die ; 

To  dwell  with  Christ  is  better  life. 
Where  our  banner  leads  us 

We  may  safely  go  ; 
Where  our  Chief  precedes  us 

We  may  face  the  foe. 
His  right  arm  is  o'er  us  ; 

He  will  guide  us  through. 
Christ  hath  gone  before  us  : 

Christians,  follow  you! 


274  SEE  THE  LAND,  HER  EASTER  KEEPING. 


See  tije  HantJ,  Jjcr  Easter  keeping. 

By  Charles  Kingsley,  preacher,  poet,  novelist,  and  reformer.  He 
was  born  June  12,  1819,  at  Holne  Vicarage,  Devonshire;  and  died  Jan.  23, 
1875.  He  graduated  with  honor  at  Cambridge  in  1842;  was  ordained 
deacon  in  July  of  the  same  year,  and  was  settled  at  Eversley,  in  Hamp- 
shire; which  place  continued  to  be  his  home  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 
A  sturdy  physical  nature,  an  active  mind,  a  strong  and  buoyant  faith, 
sympathies  warm  and  deep,  and  an  indomitable  and  fearless  hatred  of  op- 
pression in  every  form,  made  him  a  power  for  good  wherever  his  voice 
was  heard,  or  his  writings  read.  To  him,  popularity  was  of  less  account 
than  principle;  and,  both  in  his  novels  and  his  poetry,  artistic  effect  was 
often  sacrificed  to  the  vehemence  and  passion  with  which  he  championed 
the  cause  of  the  weak  against  the  strong. 

]EE  the  land,  her  Easter  keeping, 
Rises  as  her  Maker  rose ; 
Seeds  so  long  in  darkness  sleeping 
Burst  at  last  from  winter  snows. 
Earth  with  heaven  above  rejoices; 

Fields  and  gardens  hail  the  spring ; 

Shaughs  and  woodlands  ring  with  voices, 

While  the  wild  birds  build  and  sing. 

You,  to  whom  your  Maker  granted 

Powers  to  those  sweet  birds  unknown, 
Use  the  craft  by  God  implanted,  — 

Use  the  reason  not  your  own. 
Here,  while  heaven  and  earth  rejoices, 

Each  his  Easter  tribute  bring,  — 
Work  of  fingers,  chant  of  voices, 

Like  the  birds  who  build  and  sing. 


HE  IS  RISEN  I    HE  IS  RISEN! 


$?r  is  risen !   H?r  is  risen ! 

By  Mrs    I  '-v.  William 

rader,  now  Bishop  o(  Dcrry.    She  is  the  daughter  <>f  Major  Hump1  • 
Strabane,  Ireland;   and  was  married  in  1S50.     She  has  published  leveral 

>f  hymns,  and  one  admirable    collection  called  "  The  Sunday  !'.<  x>k 

o(  Poetry."    The  poem  entitled  "  The  Burial  of  Moses  "  is  the  most  famil- 
iar of  her  pieces.      He*  husband,  also,  has  written  several  volumes  of 

prose  and  poetry. 

I E  is  risen  !   He  is  risen  ! 

Tell  it  with  a  joyful  voice  : 
He  has  burst  His  three-days'  prison  : 

Let  the  whole  wide  earth  rejoice  ! 
Death  is  vanquished,  man  is  free  ; 
Christ  has  won  the  victory  ! 

Tell  it  to  the  sinners,  weeping 

Over  deeds  in  darkness  done, 
Weary  fast  and  vigil  keeping  : 

Brightly  breaks  their  Easter  sun. 
Christ  has  borne  our  sins  away  ; 
Christ  has  conquered  hell  to-day. 

He  is  risen  !   He  is  risen  ! 

He  has  oped  the  eternal  gate  : 
We  are  loosed  from  sin's  dark  prison, 

Risen  to  a  holier  state, 
Where  a  brightening  Easter  beam 
On  our  longing  eve  shall  stream. 


276     PAIN  AND    TOIL  ARE   OVER  NOW. 


Pain  anti  Eoil  are  ooer  ttofo. 

By  Mrs.  Cecil  Frances  Alexander.  —  See  note  to  the  preceding 
hymn.  The  following  version  —  abridged,  and  somewhat  altered  from 
the  original  —  is  included  in  the  Episcopal  Hymnal.  The  original  has 
six  six-line  verses,  and  may  be  found  in  Mrs.  Alexander's  "  Verses  for 
Holy  Seasons." 

||AIN  and  toil  are  over  now  : 

Bring    the    spice,    and    bring    the 
myrrh, 

Fold  the  limb,  and  bind  the  brow, 
In  the  rich  man's  sepulchre. 

Sin  has  bruised  the  Victor's  heel : 
Roll  the  stone,  and  guard  it  well ; 

Bring  the  Roman's  boasted  seal, 
Bring  his  boldest  sentinel. 

Yet  the  morning's  purple  ray 
Shall  present  a  glorious  sight,  — 

Stone  by  earthquake  rolled  away, 
Angel  guard  all  robed  in  white. 


is;^ 


IT  is   THE  NOON  OF  NIGHT.  i~~ 


It  is  tin-  Noon  of  Nlflfjt 

By  MSssJban  Iw  blow,  who  was  born  in  Boston,  England,*  in  1830, 
and  is  n«>w  living  in  London.  Her  life  was  quiet  and  uneventful  until 
Alien  she  published  a  volume  of  poems,  which  attracted  instant 
attention  by  the  sweetness  ami  beauty  ^\  its  contents,  and  won  for  its 
author  a  place  anion-  the  foremost  contemporary  singers.  Since  that 
time  she  has  published  two  or  three  volumes  of  poetry,  several  bo 
children,  and  two  novels.  She  exhibits  in  her  life  the  tenderness,  gentle- 
ness,  and  charity  which  find  expression  in  her  verse,  and  is  widely  and 
justly  beloved.  The  following  verses  are  a  part  o(  a  long  poem  on  the 
Night  of  Christ's  Resurrection,  which  the  author  wrote  "  in  humble  imita- 
tion "  of  Milton's  majestic  Hymn  on  the  Nativity. 

jjT  is  the  noon  of  night  ; 
And,  the  world's  Great  Light 
Gone  out,  she  widow-like  doth  carry 
her  : 
The  moon  hath  veiled  her  face, 
Nor  looks  on  that  dread  place 
Where  He  lieth  dead  in  sealed  sepulchre  ; 
And  Heaven  and  Hades,  emptied,  lend 
Their  flocking  multitudes  to  watch  and  wait 
the  end. 

Tier  above  tier  they  rise  ; 
Their  wings  new  line  the  skies, 
And    shed    out    comforting  light  among  the 
stars  : 


278  IT  IS    THE  NOON  OF  NIGHT. 

But  they  of  the  other  place 

The  heavenly  signs  deface  ; 
The  gloomy  brand    of    hell  their  brightness 

mars  : 
Yet  high  they  sit,  in  throned  state  : 
It  is  the  hour  of  darkness  to  them  dedicate. 

Last,  with  amazed  cry, 

The  hosts  asunder  fly, 
Leaving  an  empty  gulf  of  blackest  hue  ; 

Whence  straightway  shooteth  down, 

By  the  Great  Father  thrown, 
A  mighty  angel,  strong  and  dread  to  view  ; 
And  at  his  fall  the  rocks  are  rent, 
The  waiting  world  cloth  quake  with    mortal 
tremblement ; 

The  regions  far  and  near 

Quail,  with  a  pause  of  fear 
More  terrible  than  aught  since  time  began  ; 

The  winds,  that  dare  not  fleet, 

Drop  at  his  awrful  feet, 
And  in  its  bed  wails  the  wide  ocean  ; 
The  flower  of  dawn  forbears  to  blow, 
And  the  oldest  running  river  cannot  skill  to 
flow. 

At  stand,  by  that  dread  place, 
He  lifts  his  radiant  face, 


IT  is    THE  N<  VIGHT.  279 

And  looks  to  heaven  with  reverent  love  and 
fear ; 

Then,  while  the  welkin  qnuk 
And  muttering  thunder  breaks, 
.And  lightnings  shoot,  and  ominous  meteors 

drear, 
And  all  the  daunted  earth  doth  moan, 
He  from   the  doors  of    death  rolls  baek  the 
sealed  stone. 

—  In  regal  quiet  deep, 

Lo  !  One  new  waked  from  sleep  ! 
Behold,  He  standeth  in  the  rock-hewn  door! 

Thy  children  shall  not  die  ; 

Peace,  peace  !  thy  Lord  is  by  ! 
He  liveth  !  they  shall  live  forevermore. 
Peace  !     Lo  !  He  lifts  a  priestly  hand, 
And  blesseth  all  the  sons  of    men  in  every 
land  ! 

Then,  with  great  dread  and  wail, 

Fall  down,  like  storms  of  hail, 
The  legions  of  the  lost,  in  fearful  wise ; 

And  they  whose  blissful  race 

Peoples  the  better  place 
Lift  up  their  Wings  to  cover  their  fair  eyes, 
And  through  the  waxing  saffron  brede, 
Till  they  are  lost  in    light,  recede,  and    yet 
recede. 


280  IT  IS   THE  NOON  OF  NIGHT 

So,  while  the  fields  are  dim, 

And  the  red  sun  his  rim 
First  heaves,  in  token  of  his  reign  benign, 

All  stars  the  most  admired, 

Into  their  blue  retired, 
Lie  hid  ;  the  faded  moon  forgets  to  shine  ; 
And,  hurrying  down  the  sphery  way, 
Night  flies,  and  sweeps  her  shadow  from  the 
paths  of  Day. 

But  look  !  the  Saviour  blest, 

Calm  after  solemn  rest, 
Stands    in    the    garden,    'neath    His    olive- 
boughs  ; 

The  earliest  smile  of  day 

Doth  on  His  vesture  play, 
And  light  the  majesty  of  His  still  brows  ; 
While  angels  hang,  with  wings  outspread, 
Holding    the    new-won    crown    above     His 
saintly  head. 


/  HAVE  NO  If'//:  NO  WORDS,  NO  Tl 


£  liatoc  no  JHit,  no  HHortis,  no  <Trar^. 


By  Christina  Gi 
Ik.t.  i  g  there.     She  is  the  vera]  volumes 

of  poems,  "  Goblin  Market,*'  "1'hc  Pri 

nursery  rhymes  entitled  "  5  ind  a  book  in  prose,  "  Common- 

tnd  other  Short  Stories.  " 


1 1  AVE  no  wit,  no  words,  no  tears  ; 

My  heart  within  me  like  a  stone 
Is    numbed   too    much    for  hopes 
or  tears  : 
Look  right,  look  left,  I  dwell  alone. 
I  lift  my  eves,  but,  dimmed  with  grief, 

No  everlasting  hills  I  see  : 
My  life  is  in  the  falling  leaf : 
O  Jesus,  quicken  me  ! 

My  life  is  like  a  faded  leaf, 

My  harvest  dwindled  to  a  husk  : 
Truly  my  life  is  void  and  brief, 

And  tedious  in  the  barren  dusk  : 
My  life  is  like  a  frozen  thing, 

No  bud  nor  greenness  can  I  see  ; 
Yet  rise  it  shall,  — the  sap  of  spring  : 

O  Jesus,  rise  in  me  ! 


282  HE    COMES!    HE    COMES! 

My  life  is  like  a  broken  bowl,  — 

A  broken  bowl,  that  cannot  hold 
One  drop  of  water  for  my  soul, 

Or  cordial  in  the  searching  cold. 
Cast  in  the  fire  the  perished  thing ; 

Melt  and  remould  it,  till  it  be 
A  royal  cup  for  Him,  my  King : 

O  Jesus,  drink  of  me  ! 


p?c  contest  H?e  comes! 


By  Gerard  Moultrie,  in  "  Lyra  Messianica."  Mr.  Moultrie  is  the 
son  of  another  poet,  Rev.  John  Moultrie.  He  was  born  about  1830;  gradu- 
ated at  Oxford  in  1851:  was  ordained  deacon  in  1852,  and  priest  in  1858. 
He  taught  at  Shrewsbury  and  elsewhere  from  1852  to  1864,  and  in  the  last- 
named  year  became  incumbent  of  Barrow  Gurney,  Bristol.  He  was  ap- 
pointed Vicar  of  South  Leigh,  near  Oxford,  in  1868.  He  is  the  author  of 
a  volume  of  "Hymns  and  Lyrics;  "  and  was  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
"  People's  Hymnal,"  to  which  he  contributed  thirty-five  pieces. 


[E  comes  !  He  comes  !  the  tomb 
Quickens  her  pregnant  womb, 
And   life   and   light   spring  forth    in 

mystic  birth. 
The  garden  flowers  exhale 
Scents  on  the  morning  gale. 
Heaven  gives  her  Angel-guard  ;  her  incense, 
earth. 


HE  COMES 7    HE   COMES  I 

The  Grave  is  swallowed  up,  antl  Death  must 

die. 
Where  is  thy  Sting,  0  Death  ?  where,  Grave, 

thy  victory  ? 

Fling  wide,  deep  Hell,  thy  door, 
The  Lord  of  Hosts  before! 
lie  bears  the  blossom  oi  the  budding  wood. 
The  lily  sprouts  to  thee 
Her  graft  upon  the  tree  ; 
The  Cross  is  quickened  from  the  living  Blood. 
Our  Aaron  bears  His  staff  no  longer  dry  : 
He  smites  thy  sting,  O  Death  !  stays,  Grave, 
thy  vietory  ! 

He  comes  !   He  comes  in  might ! 
Triumphant  o'er  the  night. 
In  dread  dismay  exclaim  the  powers  of  Hell,  — 
"We  hailed  Him  as  the  dead  : 
With  Him  our  sway  is  fled  ; 
The   first-fruits   of    the    sleepers    breaks    our 
spell. 
We  hold  the  dead  :    He  raises  all  ;   for  He 
Has   drawn    thy  sting,   O    Death  !    robbed, 
Grave,  thy  victor}-  !  " 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  Gates ! 
The  King  of  Glory  waits  ; 


284  HE    COMES!    HE    COMES! 

Awaits     the    emerald    rainbow    round     His 
throne. 
One-half  the  ring  is  set 
On  earth  :  the  rest  is  met 
In  plighted  faith  where  earth  and  heaven  are 
one. 
The   Bride  may  lift  the  veil,  her  Lord  to 

see : 
Where  is  thy  sting,  O  Death  !    O  Grave, 
thy  victory  ? 


He  comes  !  He  comes  !  once  more  : 
Roll  back  the  golden  door : 
The  trumpet  sounds  :  once  more  the  Lord  is 
come. 
In  second  Advent-tide 
He  comes  to  claim  the  Bride, 
And  bear  the  Faithful  to  their  Heavenly  home. 
There  God  shall  wipe  the  tear  from  every 

eye : 
Where  is  thy  sting,  O  Death  ?    O  Grave, 
thy  victory  ? 


DEAR  SAVIOUR   OF  A    DYING    WORLD.    285 


Dear  Mainour  of  a  Dmng  GLtorllL 

known 

only  by  her  bymns,  has  kept  her  name  ami  the  dates  of  her  hie  out  of  the 
phical  dictionaries.     She  was  born  at  Neath.  -  Hei 

volume  of"  Hymns  and  Meditations,"  from  which  the  following  i>  taken, 
was  first  published  in  1850;  and  many  editions  of  it  have  been  printed  in 
I  and  America.      Her  hymns  are  deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
Christianity,  and  are  rich  in  thought  and  ;'■ 

[EAR  Saviour  of  a  dying  world, 
Where  grief  and  change  must 
be, 
In    the   new  grave  where  Thou 
wast  laid 
My  heart  lies  down  with  Thee  ; 
Oh  !  not  in  cold  despair  of  joy, 

Or  weariness  of  pain, 
But  from  a  hope  that  shall  not  die, 
To  rise  and  live  again. 

I  would  arise  in  all  Thy  strength, 

My  place  on  earth  to  fill, 
To  work  out  all  my  time  of  war 

With  love's  unflinching  will  ; 
Firm  against  every  doubt  of  Thee, 

For  all  my  future  way 
To  walk  in  Heaven's  eternal  light 

Throughout  the  changing  day  ; 


286  DEAR  SAVIOUR   OF  A   DYING    WORLD. 

Ah  !  such  a  day  as  Thou  shalt  own 

When  suns  have  ceased  to  shine,  — 
A  day  of  burdens  borne  by  Thee, 

And  work  that  all  was  Thine. 
Speed  Thy  bright  rising  in  my  heart, 

Thy  righteous  kingdom  speed, 
Till  my  whole  life  in  concord  say,  — 

"The  Lord  is  risen  indeed  !  " 


Oh  for  an  impulse  from  Thy  love 

With  every  coming  breath, 
To  sing  that  sweet,  undying  song 

Amid  the  wrecks  of  death ! 
A  "  hail !  "  to  every  mortal  pang 

That  bids  me  take  my  right 
To  glory  in  the  blessed  life 

Which  Thou  hast  brought  to  light ! 


I  long  to  see  the  hallowed  earth 

In  new  creation  rise  ; 
To  find  the  germs  of  Eden,  hid 

Where  its  fallen  beauty  lies  ; 
To  feel  the  spring-tide  of  a  soul 

By  one  deep  love  set  free, 
Made  meet  to  lay  aside  her  dust, 

And  be  at  home  with  Thee. 


DEAR  SAVIOUR  OF  A   DYING    WORLD.  287 

And  then  there  shall  be  yet  an  end, — 

An  end  how  full  to  bles 
How  dear  to  those  who  watch  tor  Thee 

With  human  tendera 
Then  shall  the  saying  come  to  pass 

That  makes  our  home  complete  ; 
And,  rising  from  the  conquered  grave, 

Thy  parted  ones  shall  meet. 


Yes,  they  shall  meet,  and,  face  to  face. 

By  heart  to  heart  be  known  ; 
Clothed  in  Thy  likeness,  Lord  of  life, 

And  perfect  in  their  own. 
For  this  corruptible  must  rise, 

From  its  corruption  free, 
And  this  frail  mortal  must  put  on 

Thine  immortality. 


Shine,  then,  Thou  Resurrection   Light  ! 

Upon  our  sorrows  shine  ! 
The  fulness  of  Thy  joy  be  ours, 

As  all  our  griefs  were  Thine. 
Now,  in  this  changing,  dying  life, 

Our  faded  hopes  restore, 
Till,  in  Thy  triumph  perfected, 

We  taste  of  death  no  more. 


288  THEY  BOUXD  HIM   WELL. 


Cfyco  ijounfc  $tm  focll  in  tijc  Qungcon 
Cell. 

An  Easter    carol,  by  Richard    Frederic    Littledale,  D.C.L.  — 
See  the  biographical  notice  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  Our  Paschal  Joy  at 

last  is  here." 


HEY  bound  him  well  in  the  dungeon 
cell,  — 
His  father's  best-loved  son  ; 
And  the  iron  dole  into  Joseph's  soul 

Its  bitter  way  hath  won : 
But  faith  and  truth  have  gained  him  ruth, 

And  loosed  the  tyrant's  chain  ; 
And  the  exile  lone  to  Egypt's  throne 

From  prison  comes  to  reign. 
The  Son  of  the  Father,  Almighty  to  save, 
Was  laid  for  three  days  in  the  heart  of  the 

grave  ; 
But    the    fetters  which  held  Him  no  longer 

may  bind, 
And  He  reigneth  to-day  over  ransomed  man- 
kind. 

He  laid  him  clown  in  Gaza  town,  — 

The  forceful  Xazarite  ; 
And  the  heathen  guard  kept  watch  and  ward 

To  slay  him  at  morning  light ; 


THEY  BOUND  HIM   WELL,  2X9 

But  at  midnight  he  rose  from  the  midst  of 
his  ; 
No  longer  would  he  stay  ; 

And  to  Hebron's  hill,  of   his  own  Strong  will, 
He  carried  their  gates  away. 

The    Nazarene   Captive,   Whom  Hell   had  in- 
snared, 

Around  Whom   the  hosts  of    the    I  Ail    One 
glared, 

Hath  gone  from  among  them  in  conquering 
state, 

And    broken    in  pieces  their  bars  and  their 
gate. 

Oh  !  now  His  rolling  chariot-wheels 

Lead  bound  captivity  ; 
And,  where  His  Presence  He  reveals, 

His  people  bow  the  knee. 
He  takes  to  Him  a  priestly  Bride  ; 
And  He  Himself  is  glorified, 

And  clad  in  white  and  gold  : 
He  sitteth  on  the  royal  seat, 
And  all  the  nations  at  His  Feet 

Lay  tribute  manifold. 

The  riddle  erewhile  spoken 

May  now  be  read  with  ease,  — 


29O  THEY  BOUND   HIM   WELL. 

The  slaughtered  lion's  token, 

The  honey  and  the  bees. 
To-day,  in  full  completeness, 

The  mystery  stands  good  ; 
Since  from  the  Strong  comes  Sweetness, 

And  from  the  eater  food. 

Hearken  to  Him  as  He  comes  in  His  might, 
Monarch  of  monarchs,  victorious  in  fight. 
Speaks  He  in  anger,  the  sinner  to  blame? 
Speaks  He  in  sorrow,  the  dastard  to  shame  ? 
With  no  reproach  for  blindness 

He  meets  His  own  to-day  ; 
In  perfect  loving-kindness 

Thus  only  will  He  say  :  — 
"  The  winter-time  away  is  past ;  the  rain  is 

gone  and  o'er ; 
The  flowerets  bloom  again  at  last ;  the  birds 

are  heard  once  more ; 
And  in  our  land  we  list  afresh  the  cooing  of 

the  dove ; 
The  figs  and  vines  are  green  and  lush  :    oh, 

come  away,  My  Love!" 


AS  SPRING'S  SWEET  BREATH, 


£s  Spring's  storct  Brcatjj  after  long 
KItntru  Snoto. 

j  .  Bishop  of  M  He  A'"*'?-    ' 

nil  al  Wellington,  Somersetshire,  March   to,  1831  ;    received  his     L*J-    /?)** 
preliminary  education  at  Bath  ;  graduated  at  Oxford,  B.A.,  in  185!  . 

MA.  111  1S59;    took  holy  orders,  and  was  appointed  Vicar  of  St.    Paul's,  >*/ 

Whitechapel,  London,  in  1858:   Vicar  of  rloiy  Trinity,  Maidstone,  t86a; 
Vicar  of  St.  Michael  and  All  Saints.  Coventry,  1866;  and  Bishop  of  Mada- 
I70,    He  edited  the  Canterbury  Hymnal  and44  Lyra 

and  has  published  several  volumes  oi  prayers,  sermons,  and  religious 
poetry.  Besides  the  compilations  already  mentioned,  and  others  of  "  Eng- 
lish  I.y  3  1   red  Poetry,"  he  has  published  a  volume  of  original 

poems,  "  Autumn  Memories,  and  other  Vci 

spring's    sweet    breath    after   long 

wintry  snow, 
As  land  to  voyager  o'er  pathless  sea, 
As  daybreak  after  weary  night  of  woe, 
Is  Easter  joy  to  me. 

All  Lenten  shadows  over,  and  the  light 

Around  us  and  within  so  sweet  and  strong  ! 

Teach  us,  O  risen  Master,  how  aright 
To  sing  our  Easter-song! 

We  stand  to-day  beside  Thy  open  tomb  ; 
We  gaze  on  "linen  clothes"  with  reverent 
heed, 
And  hear  the  angels  whispering  through  the 
gloom,  — 
"  Not  here,  but  risen  indeed  !  " 


292  AS  SPRING'S  SWEET  BREATH. 

And  all  the  story  of  Thy  love  divine 

Throbs    through    our    hearts,    longing,    O 
Christ !  for  Thee  : 

The  bitter  chalice,  with  the  deadly  wine, 
Was  drained  to  set  us  free. 

The  grave  is  dark  no  more  :  a  stream  of  light 
Thou,  rising,  left  behind  for  all  Thine  own  ; 

Death's  chain  is  broken  by  Thine  arm  of  might, 
And  rolled  away  the  stone. 

Now  Easter-light  flushes  the  morning  sky  : 
Thy  form  we  see,  all  changed,  and  yet  the 
same. 

Master,  we  kneel  before  Thee  :  hear  our  cry, 
And  call  us  each  by  name.1 

When  evening  shadows  lengthen  all  around, 
And  we  to  Emmaus  take  our  weary  way, 

With  us,  O  risen  Saviour,  still  be  found, 
And  turn  our  night  to  day ! 

And  from  Thy  radiant  throne  of  light  above, 
Oh !    send  us,    till   our   desert    wanderings 
cease, 

Thine  own  best  legacy  of  tender  love, 
Thy  sweetest  gift  of  peace. 

1  "Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary."  —  John  xx.  16. 


ALU-:/  C//AJ    ALLELUIAi 


*93 


Then   at   the   last,   when    all    shall    wake   who 

sleep, 
Made   like   to   Thee   in    raiment   white-    and 

fair, 
Oh,  bid  ns  welcome  to  Thy  home,  to  keep 

One  endless  Easter  there  ! 


ailefoia!  alleluia! 


From  the  Canterbury  Hymnal,  edited  by  Right  Rev.  Robert  Hall 
BAYN1  See  note  to  the  preceding  hymn. 

ALLELUIA!  Alleluia! 

Hearts  to  heaven,  and  voices, 
raise  ; 
Sing  to  God  a  hymn  of  gladness, 
Sing  to  God  a  hymn  of  praise. 
He  who  on  the  cross  a  Victim 

For  the  world's  salvation  bled, 
Jesus  Christ,  the  King  of  Glory, 
Xow  is  risen  from  the  dead. 


Xow  the  iron  bars  arc  broken  ; 

Christ  from  death  to  life  is  born, 
Glorious  life,  and  life  immortal, 

On  this  holy  Easter-morn. 
Christ  hath  triumphed,  and  we  conquer 

By  His  mighty  enterprise  : 


294  ALLELUIA  I    ALLELUIA  I 

We  with  Christ  to  life  eternal 
By  His  resurrection  rise. 

Christ  is  risen,  —  Christ,  the  first-fruits 

Of  the  holy  harvest-field, 
Which  will  all  its  full  abundance 

At  His  second  coming  yield ; 
Then  the  golden  ears  of  harvest 

Will  their  heads  before  Him  wave, 
Ripened  by  His  glorious  sunshine, 

From  the  furrows  of  the  grave. 

Christ  is  risen,  we  are  risen  : 

Shed  upon  us  heavenly  grace, 
Rain  and  dew,  and  gleams  of  glory, 

From  the  brightness  of  Thy  face, 
That  we,  Lord,  with  hearts  in  heaven, 

Here  on  earth  may  fruitful  be, 
And  by  angel-hands  be  gathered, 

And  be  ever  safe  with  Thee. 

Alleluia!  Alleluia! 

Glory  be  to  God  on  high, 
To  the  Father,  and  the  Saviour, 

Who  has  gained  the  victory : 
Glory  to  the  Holy  Spirit, 

Fount  of  love  and  sanctity. 
Alleluia!  Alleluia! 

To  the  Triune  Majesty  ! 


HOT  WITH   THE  FAITHFUL   FEW.  \ 


BKe  torrr  not  tottl)  tljr  JTattI)fitl  JTrtn. 

FfOOO  the  Canterbury  Hymnal. 


E  wore  not  with  the  faithful  few 

Who  stood  Thy  bitter  cross  around, 
Nor  heard  Thy  prayer  for  those  that 
slew, 
Nor  felt  that  earthquake  rock  the  ground  ; 
We  saw  no  spear-wound  pierce  Thy  side  : 
Yet  we  believe  that  Thou  hast  died. 

No  angel's  message  met  our  ear 

On  that  first  glorious  Easter-day,  — 

"The  Lord  is  risen  !     He  is  not  here  : 
Come,  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay!  " 

But  we  believe  that  Thou  didst  quell 

The  banded  powers  of  Death  and  Hell. 

We  saw  Thee  not  return  on  high  ; 

And  now,  our  longing  sight  to  bless, 
Xo  ray  of  glory  from  the  sky 

Shines  down  upon  our  wilderness  : 
Vet  we  believe  that  Thou  art  there, 
And  seek  Thee,  Lord,  in  praise  and  prayer. 


296      PUT  ON  THY  BEAUTIFUL   ROBES. 


$ut  on  tlju  Beautiful  ftours,  Brioc  of 
Christ. 

By  William  Chatterton  Dix  ;  born  at  Bristol  in  1837,  and  living 
(in  1S72)  in  Glasgow.  He  has  contributed  a  number  of  sacred  lyrics  to 
periodicals,  and  is  the  author  of  a  small  volume  of  poetry. 


UT   on  thy  beautiful  robes,  Bride  of 
Christ; 
For  the  King  shall  embrace  thee 
to-day  : 

Break  forth  into   singing  ;    the  morning  has 
dawned, 
And  the  shadows  of  night  are  away. 

Shake  off  the  dust  from   thy  feet,  Bride   of 
Christ ; 

For  the  Conqueror,  girded  with  might, 
Has  vanquished  the  foe,  the  dragon  cast  down, 

And  the  cohorts  of  hell  put  to  flight. 

Thou  art  the  Bride  of  His  love,  His  elect  : 
Dry  thy  tears  ;  for  thy  sorrows  are  past. 

Lone   were   the   hours   when    thy   Lord   was 
away  ; 
But  He  comes  with  the  morning  at  last. 


rev  OX   THY  BEAUTIFUL   ROBES.      297 

The  winds   bear  the   noise   of   His   chariot- 
wheels, 

And  the  thunders  of  victory  roar  : 
Lift  up  thy  beautiful  gates,  Bride  of  Christ  ; 
For  the  grave  has  dominion  no  more. 

Once  they  arrayed   Him  with  scorning;  but 

see  ! 
His  apparel  is  glorious  now  : 
In  His  hand  are  the  keys  of  death  and  of  hell, 
And  the  diadem  gleams  on  His  brow. 

Hark  !  'tis  her  voice  :  Alleluia  she  sings, 

Alleluia  !  the  captives  are  free  ! 
Unfolded  the  gates  of  Paradise  stand, 

And  unfolded  forever  shall  be. 

Choir  answers  choir,  where  the  song  has  no 
end  ; 

All  the  saints  raise  Hosannas  on  high  ; 
Deep  calls  unto  deep  in  the  ocean  of  love 

As  the  Bride  lifts  her  jubilant  cry. 


298  CHRIST  OUR  PASCHAL  LAMB. 


CJjrist  is  become  our  ^ascfjal  2Lamo. 

From  Chope's  Hymnal. 


5HRIST  is  become  our  Paschal  Lamb, 
For  us  condemned  to  die  : 
Those  washed  in  His  Atoning  Blood 
The  Avenger  passeth  by. 


Hail !  Sacred  Victim,  by  whose  death 
Death  hath  been  overcome  ; 

Who  by  Thy  Burial  hast  dispersed 
The  darkness  of  the  tomb  ! 

He  that  was  dead  now  lives  again  ; 

The  prison-doors  are  riven  : 
Triumphant  o'er  our  ghostly  foe, 

He  opes  the  gates  of  Heaven. 

Oh,  grant  us,  Lord,  with  Thee  to  die, 

With  Thee  again  to  rise ; 
To  spurn  the  things  of  earth,  and  seek 

The  treasures  of  the  skies  ! 


FAR  BE  SORROW,  TEARS,  AND  SIGHING!  2<j<j 


JFar  be  Sorroto,  £cars,  anU  Signing! 


From  1  >r.  Kennedy's  "  Hymnologu  Christiana." 


\R  be  sorrow,  tears,  and  sighing! 
Waves    are    calming,    storms    are 
dying : 

Moses  hath  o'erpassed  the  sea; 

Israel's  captive  hosts  are  free  : 
Life  by  death  slew  death,  and  saved  us  ; 
In  His  blood  the  Lamb  hath  laved  us, 

Clothing  us  with  victory.     Alleluia  ! 

Hark  !  the  deep  abysses  thunder  ; 

Hark !  the  chains  are  snapped  in  sunder, 
And  the  unfettered  fathers  rise, 
Soaring  toward  the  opened  skies. 

God  and  Man,  our  ransom  paying, 

And  in  light  Himself  arraying, 

Claimeth  now  the  victory.     Alleluia! 

Jesus  Christ  from  death  has  risen  : 
'Twas  His  Godhead  burst  the  prison  ; 

'Twas  His  blest  Humanity 

Struggled  with  our  misery  : 


300  CALM  THEY  SIT  WITH  CLOSED  DOOR. 

God's  long  patience,  God's  rejection, 
Brought  to  pass  our  resurrection, 

Brought  to  pass  our  victory.     Alleluia! 

This  the  law  the  Saviour  teaches, 
This  the  call  the  trumpet  preaches  :  — 

Sinner,  from  the  grave  of  sin 

Rise,  eternal  joy  to  win. 
From  the  death  our  sins  decreed  us 
Jesus  Christ  by  death  has  freed  us  : 

Sing  we,  then,  His  victory.     Alleluia! 


(Calm  tfjeg  sit  tottij  (Close*  Door. 

From  Dr.  Kennedy's  "  Hymnologia  Christiana." 

jALM'they  sit  with  closed  door, 
Shutting  out  the  city's  din  : 
Tenant  of  the  tomb  no  more, 
See  the  Saviour  enter  in  ! 
Spirit-like  behold  Him  glide 

To  each  saintly,  wondering  guest ; 
Show  His  pierced  hands  and  side, 
Breathe  His  peace  in  every  breast. 

What  though  years  have  rolled  away, 
Since,  triumphant  from  the  tomb, 


AWAKE,    THOU   WINTRY  EARTH!      301 

J       5,  at  the  1  day, 

Sought  that  quiet  upper  room  ? 

Oft,  from  /ion's  heavenly  hill, 

ks  He  yet  His  faithful  few; 
Bides  with  them  in  spirit  still  ; 
Shows  eaeli  glorious  wound  anew. 

Mighty  L<»rd,  descend,  we  pray, 

Where  Thy  fond  disciples  meet  : 
Many  a  Magdalene  to-day 

Fain  would  her  Deliverer  greet ; 
Many  a  Thomas  scarce  can  dare 

Own  Thee  for  his  God  and  Lord  : 
Come,  and  banish  doubt  and  care 

With  Thy  true  almighty  Word. 


Hfoakr,  tfjoit  fohrtrg  Eartij! 


Contributed  by   Thomas    Blackburn   to    Fosbery's   "  Hymns    and 
Poems  for  the  Sick  and  Suffering." 


|WAKE,  thou  wintry  earth  ! 
Fling  off  thy  sadness  ! 
Fair  vernal  flowers,  laugh  forth 
Your  ancient  gladness  : 

Christ  is  risen  ! 


302  GLORY  BE    TO    GOD   ON  HIGH  I 

Wave,  woods,  your  blossoms  all ! 

Grim  death  is  dead ; 
Ye  weeping,  funeral  trees, 

Lift  up  your  head : 

Christ  is  risen  ! 

All  is  fresh  and  new, 

Full  of  spring  and  light : 
Wintry  heart,  why  wear'st  the  hue 

Of  sleep  and  night  ? 

Christ  is  risen  ! 

Leave  thy  cares  beneath, 

Leave  thy  worldly  love  : 
Begin  the  better  life 

With  God  above  : 

Christ  is  risen  ! 


ffilorg  fie  to  ffiotr  on  Jftflij! 

By  W.  B.,  in  "  Lyra  Messianica." 

j|LORY  be  to  God  on  high  ! 
Sang  the  Angels  from  the  sky, 
When  the  Holiest,  stooping  low, 
Put  on  strength  against  our  foe. 
Ye  that  hymned  the  strife  begun, 
Loftier  hymn  the  triumph  won  : 


GLORY  BE    TO   GOD   ON  HIGH  I         303 

Death  lias  crouched  to  Adam's  seed, — 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed! 

Hail  the  Mower  that  ne'er  shall  fade! 
Hail  the  Day  the  Lord  hath  made! 

Bridal  morn  of  earth  and  heaven, 

Dawn  of  joy  to  Christ's  Eleven. 

Mary,  though  the  word  came  true, 

Though  the  sword  hath  pierced  thee  through, 

Now  thy  soul  no  more  shall  bleed,  — 

Xow  thy  Son  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Hell  hath  done  its  last  and  worst : 
Vain  the  traitor's  kiss  accurst, 
Swords  and  staves  and  ruffian  crew, 
Priestly  vestments  rent  in  two, 
Blows,  and  spitting  on  that  face 
Whence  the  pure  heavens  look  for  grace, 
Tongues  forsworn,  and  doom  decreed,  — 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Vain  the  hate  that  watched  His  woe, 
Feasting  on  each  wound  and  throe  ; 
From  the  sacred  Corpse  drew  Blood  ; 
Made  Him  sure,  as  best  it  could  : 
Hours  of  grief  and  waiting  past, 
Comes  our  own  dear  Lord  at  last, 
Ne'er  again  to  groan  or  bleed,  — 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed  ! 


304         GLORY  BE    TO    GOD    ON  HIGH! 

Round  His  feet  their  snares  they  laid; 
For  His  Soul  a  pit  they  made, 
Wrought  it  deep,  and  tracked  Him  well : 
Down  their  own  dark  gulf  they  fell ; 
And  their  cords,  all  strong  and  new, 
Lo  !  like  thread  He  bursts  them  through  ! 
Hunters  caught,  and  Quarry  freed, — 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed  ! 

So  be  all  Thy  foes  undone  : 

Shine  Thy  friends  like  morning  sun, — 

Shine  with  light  that  streams  from  Thee 

In  Thy  Paschal  victory. 

While  they  see  Thee  standing  near, 

Darkest  times  are  daylight  clear, 

Sunlit  by  the  Paschal  creed,  — 

Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed  ! 

Chants  and  chimes  of  Easter-morn, 
Praise  our  God,  the  Virgin-born, 
Who,  by  dying,  death  o'erthrew. 
Rose,  and  won  us  life  anew. 
Hail !  sweet  day  that  stills  all  fears, 
Heals  all  wounds,  and  dries  all  tears  ; 
Mightier  yet  than  bitterest  need,  — 
Christ  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed ! 


THE   GRAVES  GROW   THICKER.         305 


JTIir  ffirafctt  grofo  cTiitckrr,  an*  life's 
Klaus  more  Bare. 

By.  R.  K.  J.  A.,  in  "  Lyra  My 

HE   graves    grow    thicker,   and    life's 

ways  more  bare, 
As  years  on  years  go  by : 

Nay,   thou  hast  more  green    gardens  in   thy 
care, 
And  more  stars  in  thy  sky ! 

Behind,  hopes  turned  to  griefs,  and  joys  to 
memories, 
Are  fading  out  of  sight; 
Before,  pains  changed  to  peace,  and  dreams 
to  certainties, 
Are  glowing  in  God's  Light. 

Hither  come  backslidings,  defeats,  distresses, 

Vexing  this  mortal  strife  ; 
Thither  go  progress,  victories,  successes, 

Crowning  immortal  Life. 

No  jubilees,  few  gladsome,  festive  hours, 
Form  landmarks  for  my  way  ; 

But  Heaven  and  earth,  and  Saints  and  friends 
and  flowers, 
Are  keeping  Easter-Day ! 


306  A  PA  THWA  Y  OPENS  FROM  THE  TOMB. 


&  $atf)foas  opens  from  tije  2Tomo. 


From   "  Lyra  Anglicana,"  edited  by  Rev.  George  T.  Rider,  New 
York,  1865. 


PATHWAY  opens  from  the  tomb; 

The  grave's  a  grave  no  more  : 
Stoop  down ;    look    into    that   sweet 
room  ; 
Pass  through  the  unsealed  door ; 
Linger  a  moment  by  the  bed 
Where  lay  but  yesterday  the  Church's  Head. 

What  is  there  there  to  make  thee  fear  ? 

A  folded  chamber-vest, 
Akin  to  that  which  thou  shalt  wear 

When  for  thy  slumber  drest ; 
Two  gentle  angels  sitting  by  : 
How  swreet  a  room,  methinks,  wherein  to  lie  ! 

No  gloomy  vault,  no  charnel-cell, 

No  emblems  of  decay ; 
No  solemn  sound  of  passing-bell 

To  say,  "  He's  gone  away  ;  " 
But  angel-whispers  soft  and  clear, 
And  He,  the  risen  Jesus,  standing  near. 


A  PATHWAY  OPENS  FROM  THE  TOMB. 

u  Why  weepest  thou  ?    Whom  seekest  thou  ?  " 
Tis  not  the  gardener's  voice, 

But  His  to  Whom  all  knees  shall  bow, 

Iu  Whom  all  hearts  rejoice, — 
The  voice  of  Him  Who  yesterday 

Within  that  rock  was  Death's  resistless  pre}'. 

"  Why  weepest  thou  ?     Whom  seekest  thou  ? 

The  living  with  the  dead  ?  " 
Take    young    spring    flowers,  and    deck    thy 
brow  ; 

For  life  with  joy  is  wed. 
The  grave  is  now  the  grave  no  more  : 
Why  tear  to  pass  that  bridal  chamber  door  ? 

Take  flowers,  and  strew  them  all  around 

The  room  where  Jesus  lay  : 
But  softly  tread  ;  'tis  hallowed  ground  ; 

And  this  is  Easter-Day. 
"The  Lord  is  risen,"  as  He  said, 
And    thou    shalt    rise    with    Him,    thy  risen 
Head. 


308  DAYS  GROW  LONGER. 


Bags  (jroto  iLonger,  Sunbeams  Stronger. 


Miss  Chapman,  in  her  collection  of  Easter  Hymns,  credits  the  follow- 
ing to  an  English  book  of  Hymns  and  Carols. 


AYS  grow  longer,  sunbeams  stronger  ; 
Easter-tide  makes  all  things  new ; 
Lent  is  banished,  sadness  vanished  : 
Christ  hath  risen  ;  rise  we  too. 


Christmas  greetings,  Twelfth-Night  meetings, 
Whitsun  sports,  are  glad  and  gay ; 

But  the  lightest  and  the  brightest 
Of  our  feasts  is  Easter-Day. 

Earthly  story  crowns  with  glory 
Him  Whom  earthly  foes  o'ercame  : 

Victor's  laurel  ends  the  quarrel ; 
Honor  dwells  about  His  name. 

Vanquished  legions,  conquered  regions, 
Kings  deposed,  and  princes  bound ; 

Exultation,  acclamation, 

Fill  His  ears,  and  float  around. 


DAYS  GROW  LONGER. 

Then,  unending  unci  transcending 
Be  the  glory  of  the  Son  ; 

For  transcendent  and  resplendent 
Was  the  victory  He  hath  won. 

Death  hath  yielded,  life  is  shielded, 
Satan  bound,  and  Hell  in  chains 

Chased  is  terror,  fled  is  error; 
Grief  is  past,  and  joy  remains. 


American. 


WELCOME,   0  DAY!  3  I  3 


(LHclcomr,  ©  Day !   in  tabling  Glory 

brtcjljt ! 

By  WlLLU  >.D.,  who  was  born   at  Pittsfield,  Mass.,  Jan. 

uated    it   Harvard  University  [802;  was  ordained  over  the 
•  I  Church   at  Pittsneld,  October,  1810;    President  <  ; 
mouth  College  1 017;    President  gc  1820-39;    ■ 

mpton  July  10.  1868.     He  was  the  author  of  several  biographical 
and  hisl  s,  and  of  a  volume  of " Christian  Sonnets,"  from  which 

.  ing  is  taken. 

|ELC<  >ME,  I  )  Day!  in  dazzling  glory 
bright! 
Emblem    of    yet    another   day   most 
blest, 
When    all    Christ's    friends    with    Him  in 
Heaven  shall  rest ; 
For  on  this  day,  in  his  recovered  might, 
The    Sleeper  waked    to    see    this    morning's 
light,  — 
"  The  Son  of  God  !  "  glad  angel-hosts  attest  : 
So,  when  alive,  most  fully  shown,  contV 
For  on   this  day  He   took    His   Heavenward 

flight. 
When,  therefore,  our  glad  eyes  this  morning's 
sun 


314  LIFT   YOUR    GLAD    VOICES. 

See    rising   on    the    earth,    we'll    lift    our 

thought 
To  Him,  who  by  His  death  our  life  hath 

bought, 
And,  Victor,  King,  for  us  a  crown  hath  won. 
It  e'er  shall  be  a  day  of  sweetest  joy, 
Till  we  shall  see  our  Lord  in  yonder  sky ! 


ILtft  sour  ffilali  Fotcrg  in  STriumpfj  on 


»igk 


By  Henry  Ware,  jun.,  D.D.,  born  at  Hingham,  Mass.,  April  21, 
1794;  died  at  Framingham  Sept.  25,  1843.  He  graduated  at  Harvard 
University  in  1812;  and,  after  teaching  for  some  time  at  the  Exeter  Acad- 
emy, he  prepared  himself  for  the  ministry  under  the  direction  of  his  father, 
minister  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at  Hingham;  was  licensed  to  preach  in 
1815;  and  was  ordained  over  the  Second  Church,  Boston,  in  1817.  He 
was  appointed  a  professor  in  the  Cambridge  Theological  School  in  1829, 
and  remained  in  the  active  duties  of  that  position  until  the  summer  of 
1842,  when,  worn  out  with  arduous  work  as  lecturer,  preacher,  and  writer, 
he  retired  to  Framingham,  and  died  there  in  the  year  following.  His 
collected  writings  were  published  after  his  death.  They  are  mostly  of  a 
religious  and  theological  character,  and  include  a  considerable  number 
of  fine  hymns,  of  which  the  following  is  the  most  familiar. 


SIFT  your  glad  voices  in  triumph  on 
high; 
For  Jesus  hath  risen,  and  man  cannot 
die. 
Vain  were  the  terrors  that  gathered  around 
Him, 
And  short  the  dominion  of  death  and  the 
grave  : 


LIFT   YOUR   GLAD    VOICES. 


6*} 


He    burst    from    the    fetters  of  darkness   that 
bound  I  lim, 
Resplendent  in  glory,  to  live  and  to  save. 
Loud  was  the  chorus  of  angels  on  high,  — 

"The  Saviour  hath  risen,  and  man  can- 
not die." 

Glory  to  God,  in  full  anthems  of  joy  ! 
The    being   He    gave    us    death    cannot 
destroy  ! 
Sad    were    the    life    we    must    part  with    to- 
morrow 
If    tears    were    our    birthright,    and   death 
were  our  end  ; 
But  Jesus  hath  cheered   the    dark  valley  of 
sorrow, 
And  bade  us,  immortal,  to  heaven  ascend. 
Lift,  then,  your  glad  voices  in  triumph 

on  high  ; 
For  Jesus  hath  risen,  and  man  shall   not 
die. 


316  ALL  PRAISE    TO  HIM  OE  NAZARETH. 


&U  praise  to  &im  of  Na^aretij. 


By  William  Cullen  Bryant,  born  at  Cummington,  Mass.,  Nov.  3, 
1794;  and  died  June  12,  1878,  at  New  York.  He  studied  for  two  years  at 
Williams  College,  and  afterward  studied  and  practised  law.  In  1825  he 
became  editor  of  "  The  New- York  Review."  In  1826  he  formed  a  con- 
nection with  "  The  New-York  Evening  Post,"  and,  in  the  year  following, 
assumed  the  editorial  charge  of  that  journal,  —  a  position  which  he  retained 
until  his  death,  although  in  later  years  the  direct  control  of  affairs  was 
in  other  hands.  In  his  long  life  he  found  time  for  many  forms  of  literary 
activity,  and  to  the  last  contributed  occasional  pieces  of  verse  to  the 
periodicals  of  the  day,  and  graced  public  occasions  by  his  presence. 
His  noble  and  elevating  poems,  and  his  translations  of  the  "  Iliad"  and 
the  "  Odyssey,"  give  him  a  permanent  place  in  literature,  and  justify  the 
estimate  in  which  he  is  held  among  English-speaking  people.  His 
essays,  addresses,  and  letters  of  travel,  proved  him  to  possess  a  prose 
style  scarcely  less  graceful  and  dignified;  and  in  all  his  writings,  whether 
in  prose  or  verse,  we  feel  ourselves  in  contact  with  a  spirit  of  singular 
sweetness  and  purity.  The  verses  which  follow  were  written  for  a  Com- 
munion Hymn,  and  are  quoted  from  a  little  book  of  hymns  which  he 
published  in  1864. 


LL  praise  to  Him  of  Nazareth, — 
The  Holy  One  who  came, 
For  love  of  man,  to  die  a  de&th 
Of  agony  and  shame  ! 


Dark  was  the  grave ;  but,  since  He  lay 

Within  its  dreary  cell, 
The  beams  of  heaven's  eternal  day 

Upon  its  threshold  dwell. 


ONCE   MORE    THOU  COAfEST,  317 

He  grasped  the  iron  veil  ;  He  drew 
Its  gloomy  folds  aside, 

And  opened  to  His  followers'  view 
The  glorious  world  they  hide. 

In  tender  memory  of  His  grave 

The  mystic  bread  we  take, 
And  muse  upon  the  life  He  gave 

So  freely  for  our  sake. 

A  boundless  love  He  bore  mankind  : 

Oh,  may  at  least  a  part 
Of  that  strong  love  descend,  and  find 

A  place  in  every  heart ! 


©iter  more  tfjott  contest,  ©  trrltctous 
Spring ! 

By  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.D.,  who  was  born  at  Hudson,  N.Y., 
in  1804,  graduated  at  Vale  in  1823,  and  died  at  Boston  in  1851.  He  was 
Rector  of  Christ  Church,  Boston,  1829-40;  Rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 
Auburn,  N.V.,  1840-44;  and  Rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston, 
from  1844  till  his  death.  His  poems  were  published  in  a  volume  after  his 
death. 

NCE  more  thou  comest,  O  delicious 
Spring ! 

And,  as    thy  light   and  gentle   foot- 
steps tread 
Among  earth's  glories,  desolate  and  dead, 


3  18  'TIS  HE!   'TIS  HE!  I  KNOW  HIM  NOW. 

Breathcst  revival  over  every  thing. 
Thy  genial  spirit  is  abroad  to  bring 

The  cold  and  faded  into  life  and  bloom,  — 

Emblem    of    that  which    shall    unlock  the 
tomb, 
And  take  away  the  fell  destroyer's  sting  : 
Therefore  thou  hast  the  warmer  welcoming  ; 
For  Nature  speaks  not  of  herself  alone, 
But  in  her  resurrection  tells  our  own. 

As  from  the  grave  comes  forth  the  buried 
grain, 
So  man's  frail  body,  in  corruption  sown, 

In  incorruption  shall  be  raised  again. 


'ftis  $e !  'tis  $e !    X  fcnoto  &tm  nofo- 

By  George  Washington  Bethune,  D.D.,  who  was  born  in  New 
York  in  1805;  graduated  at  Dickinson  College  1822;  studied  theology 
at  Princeton ;  was  settled  as  pastor  over  the  Reformed  Dutch  churches  at 
Rhinebeck,  N.Y.  (1827),  at  Philadelphia  (1834),  and  at  Brooklyn  Heights, 
N.Y.  (1850);  died  at  Florence,  Italy,  whither  he  had  gone  to  seek  re- 
covery of  impaired  health,  April  27,  1862.  He  was  a  man  of  fine  scholar- 
ship, and  of  brilliant  powers  as  writer  and  orator.  He  published  several 
volumes  of  essays,  sermons,  and  poems. 

|IS  He  !  'tis  He  !     I  know  Him  now, 
By  the  red  scars  upon  His  brow, 
His   wounded   hands,  and  feet,  and 
side,  — 
My  Lord  !  my  God  !  the  Crucified  ! 


'TIS  ///■:  T/S  HE!   I  KNOW  HIM  .voir 

Those  hands  have  rolled  the  stone 
Those  feet  have  trod  the  path  to-day  ; 
And  round  that  brow  triumphant  shine 
The  rays  of  Majesty  divine. 

Oh,  from  those  hands  uplifted  shed 
Thy  blessing  on  my  fainting  head  ! 

And,  as  I  clasp  those  feet,  impart 

The  love  that  gushed  from  out  Thy  heart  ! 

Thy  death  upon  the  cross  be  mine  ; 
My  life  from  mortal  sin  be  Thine  ; 
And  mine  the  way  Thy  feet  have  trod, 
To  reign  in  heaven  with  Thee,  My  God  ! 


320  TELL    US,   GARD'NER. 


Cell  us,  ffiarfc'ner,  trost  tijou  ftnofo? 


By  Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Western  New  York. 
He  was  born  in  Mendham,  N.J.,  May  10,  1818,  and  studied  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  New  York.  He  was  ordained  in  1841,  and  has  been  Rector  of 
the  parishes  of  St.  Anne's,  Morrisania,  St.  John's,  Hartford,  and  Grace 
Church,  Brooklyn.  Since  1864  he  has  been  Bishop  of  'Western  New 
York.  He  is  one  of  the  best  known  of  American  sacred  poets,  and  his 
"  Christian  Ballads"  in  particular  have  enjoyed  a  wide  and  merited  popu- 
larity. The  following  exquisite  Easter  Madrigal  was  first  printed  in 
"  The  New-York  Independent"  in  1877,  an^  is  here  given  as  revised  by 
the  author  for  this  collection. 


MARY    AND    SALOME. 

[ELL  us,  GarcTner,  dost  thou  know 
Where  the  Rose  and  Lily  grow,  — 
Sharon's  Crimson  Rose,  and  pale 

Judah's  Lily  of  the  Vale  ? 

Rude  is  yet  the  opening  year ; 

Yet  their  sweetest  breath  is  here. 

GARDENER. 

Daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
Yes,  'tis  here  we  planted  them. 
'Twas  a  Rose  all  red  with  gore ; 
Wondrous  were  the  thorns  it  bore 
'Twas  a  body  swathed  in  white  ; 
Ne'er  was  Lily  half  so  bright. 


TELL    USy   GARD'NRR. 
THE    WOMEN, 

Gentle  Gard'ner,  even 

What  we  seek  thou  seem'st  to  know. 
Bearing  spices  and  perfume, 

We  are  come  to  Joseph's  tomb. 
Breaks  even  now  the  rosy  day  : 
Roll  us,  then,  the  stone  away. 

GARDENER. 

Holy  women  !  this  the  spot. 
Seek  Him  ;  but  it  holds  Him  not. 
This  the  holy  mount  of  myrrh, 
Here  the  hills  of  incense  were, 
Here  the  bed  of  His  repose, 
Till,  ere  dawn  of  day,  He  rose. 

MAGDALENE. 

Yes,  my  name  is  Magdalene  : 
I  myself  the  Lord  have  seen. 
Here  I  came  but  now,  and  wept 
Where  I  deemed  my  Saviour  slept  : 
But  He  called  my  name  ;  and,  lo  ! 
Jesus  lives,  —  'tis  even  so. 

GARDENER. 

Yes,  the  mountains  skipped  like  rams  ; 
Leaped  the  little  hills  like  lambs  ; 


322  TELL    US,    GARDINER. 

All  was  dark,  when  shook  the  ground, 
Quaked  the  Roman  soldiers  round, 
Streamed  a  glorious  light,  and  then 
Lived  the  Crucified  again. 

WOMEN. 

Magdalene  hath  seen  and  heard ! 
Gardener,  we  believe  thy  word  ; 
But,  oh,  where  is  Jesus  fled, 
Living,  and  no  longer  dead  ? 
Tell  us,  that  we,  too,  may  go 
Where  the  Rose  and  Lily  grow. 

MAGDALENE. 

Come,  the  stone  is  rolled  away ; 

See  the  place  where  Jesus  lay  ; 

See  the  lawn  that  wrapped  His  brow  ; 

Here  the  angel  sat  but  now. 

"  Seek  not  here  the  Christ,"  he  said  ; 

"  Seek  not  life  among  the  dead." 

ALL. 

Seek  we,  then,  the  life  above  ; 
Seek  we  Christ,  our  Light  and  Love. 
Now  His  words  we  call  to  mind: 
If  we  seek  Him,  we  shall  find  ; 
If  we  love  Him,  we  shall  know 
Where  the  Rose  and  Lily  grow. 


1111.    WINTER  IS  OVER. 


CTIir  Klintcr  is  otorr  antJ  gone  at  Last. 

By  Aki  h 
—  See  the  bi  graphical  note  prefixed  to  the  preceding  i*>cm. 

HE  winter  is  over  and  gone  at  last ; 
The  days  of  snow  and  cold  are  past  ; 
Over  the  fields  the  Mowers  appear: 
It  is  the  Spirit's  voice  we  hear  : 
The  singing  of  birds, 
A  warbling  band, 
And  the  Spirit's  voice, — 
The  voice  of  the  truth, — is  heard  in  our  land. 

And  gone  are  the  plaintive  days  of  Lent  : 
The  week  of  the  cross  with  Christ  we  spent  ; 
Now  He  giveth  us  joy  for  woe  : 
Gather  the  flowers,  the  first  that  blow : 

The  singing  of  birds, 

A  warbling  band, 

And  flowers,  are  words 
Which  even  a  babe  may  understand. 

And  Christ  is  the  song  of  every  thin<r  ; 
For  death  is  winter,  and  Christ  is  spring: 


324  ETERNAL  FATHER!   AT  WHOSE   WORD. 

Fountains  that  warble  in  purling  words, 
Hark !  how  they  echo  the  "  song  of  birds  "  ! 

The  singing  of  birds, 

A  warbling  band, 

And  the  purling  words 
Of  brooks  and  waters,  are  heard  in  our  land. 


Sternal  jfatfjer !   at  SEfjose  SEortr. 

By  Rev.  Thomas  Hill,  D.D.,  born  at  New  Brunswick,  N.J.,  Jan. 
7,  1818;  graduated  at  Harvard  University  in  1843;  ordained  pastor  of  the 
Unitarian  church  at  Waltham  in  1845;  President  of  Antioch  College, 
Ohio,  in  1859;  President  of  Harvard  College  1861-67;  representative  from 
Waltham  in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature  1870-71 ;  installed  pastor  of 
the  First  Parish,  Portland,  Me.,  May  18,  1873.  He  is  the  author  of  a 
number  of  theological  and  scientific  treatises,  and  of  several  hundred 
hymns. 

TERNAL  Father  !  at  whose  word 
Creation  flashed  to  instant  birth, 
Thy  will,  which  gave  this  body  life, 
Bids  it  return  to  lifeless  earth. 

But  thou  didst  send  that  risen  Lord, 
Who  once  in  Joseph's  garden  lay, 

Burst  from  the  night  of  transient  death, 
And  called  us  to  immortal  day. 

In  His  dear  name  we  ask  thy  help, 
By  faith  in  Him  to  live  and  die, 


SING  ALOUD%    CHILDREN  I 


That,  when  our  bodies  sleep  in  dust, 
We  may  with  Him  ascend  on  high. 

Eternal  Father!  by  thy  word 

Raise  us  from  sin  and  death's  dark  night, 
That  we  may  even  now  with  Christ 

Dwell  in  the  realms  of  heavenly  light 


&ittfl  alouti,  Cfjtltirrn!   sing  to  tljr 
Glorious  l\ing. 

By   I>r.   Alexander   Ramsay  Th  :>hical 

notice  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "  We  keep  the  Festival." 


IXG  aloud,  children  !   sing  to  the  glo- 
rious King 
Of     Redemption,    who    sits     on     the 
throne ; 
For  the   seraphim  high  veil   their  faces,  and 
cry, 
And  the  angels  are  praising  the  Son. 


With     Mis     raiment     blood-dyed,     and    with 
wounds  in  His  side, 
lie  returns  like  a  chief  from  the  war, 
Where   His  champion  blow  hath  laid    death 
and  hell  low, 
And  hath  driven  destruction  afar. 


326  DO   SAINTS  KEEP  HOLY  DAY? 

Not  a  helper  stood  by  when  the  foemen  drew 
nigh, 

And  arrayed   their  leagued    hosts    for  the 
fight ; 
But  He  met  them  alone,  and  the  victory  won 
By  His  own  irresistible  might. 

Yes,  the  triumph  He  won  !     Give  the  Cruci- 
fied Son 
Hallelujahs  of  praise  ever  new  : 
Hail  Him,  children,  and  say,  Hallelujah  !  to- 
day; 
For  the  Saviour  is  risen  for  you. 

Do  Saints  keep  f&olg  Dag  in  ^eafaenlg 
Paces  ? 

By  Mrs.  Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney,  who  was  born  in  Boston  in  1824. 
She  is  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Enoch  Train,  and  the  wife  of  Mr.  Seth  D. 
Whitney  of  Milton,  Mass.,  where  she  now  resides.  She  is  the  author  of 
"  Faith  Gartney's  Girlhood,"  "  Hitherto,"  "  Sights  and  Insights,"  and 
other  stories,  and  c\  a  number  of  poems,  some  of  which  have  been  pub- 
lished in  a  volume  entitled  "  Pansies."  Her  writings,  both  prose  and 
verse,  are  marked  by  deep  spiritual  feeling. 

O  saints    keep   holy  day  in  heavenly 
places  ? 
Does  the  old  joy  shine  new  in  angel- 
faces  ? 
Are  hymns  still  sung  the  night  when   Christ 

was  born  ? 
And  anthems  on  the  resurrection-morn  ? 


DO  SAINTS   KEEP  HOLY  DA\  .  327 

Because  our  little  year  of  earth  is  run, 

1).)  they  keep  record  there  beyond  the  sun, 

And,  in  their  homes  oi  light  so  far  away, 
Mark  with  us  the  sweet  coming  oi  this  day? 

What    is    their    Easter?    for   they   have    no 
graves  ; 

No  shadow  there  the  holy  sunrise  craves, — 
Dee})  in  the  heart  of  noontide  marvellous, 
Whose  breaking  glory  reaches  down  to  us. 

How  did  the  Lord  keep  Easter?     With   His 

own  ! 
Back  to  meet  Mary,  where  she  grieved  alone, 
With  face  and  mien  all  tenderly  the  same, 
Unto  the  very  sepulchre  He  came. 

Ah    the    dear    message    that    He    gave    her 

then  !  — 
Said    for  the    sake    of    all    bruised  hearts  of 

men,  — 
"Go  tell  those  friends  that  have  believed  on 

me, 
I  go  before  them  into  Galilee. 

"  Into  the  life  so  poor  and  hard  and  plain, 
That  for  a  while  they  must  take  up  again, 


328  DO  SAINTS  KEEP  HOLY  DAY? 

My    presence  passes  :    where    their  feet  toil 

slow, 
Mine,  shining,  swift  with  love,  still  foremost 

go! 

"  Say,  Mary,  I  will  meet  them  by  the  way, 
To  walk  a  little  with  them  ;  where  they  stay, 
To  bring  my  peace.     Watch  ;  for  ye  do  not 

know 
The  day,  the  hour,  when  I  may  find  you  so  !  " 

And  I  do  think,  as  He  came  back  to  her, 
The  many  mansions  may  be  all  astir 
With  tender  steps,  that  hasten  in  the  way, 
Seeking  their  own  upon  this  Easter-Day. 

Parting  the  veil  that  hideth  them  about, 
I  think  they  do  come,  softly,  wistful,  out 
From  homes  of  heaven  that  only  seem  so  far, 
And  walk  in  gardens  where  the  new  tombs 
are. 


HALLOWED   FOREVER. 


gallofoeti  former  ur  tliat  JTboiltglit  3[>our. 


l'.y  Mrs.   Martha    Perry    Lows,  !><>rn   at   (teem 
ind  married,  >c-j>t.  16,  1857,  ,,)  ^(V-  Chai 
Unitarian  K  is  the  author  of  two  volumi 


ALLOWED  forever  be  that  twilight 
hour 
When  those  disciples  went  upon  their 
way  : 


The    deepening    shadows     o'er    their    spirits 
lower, 
The  tender  griefs  that  come  with  close  of 
day. 

A  gentle  stranger  tarried  by  their  side, 
And  asked  them  sweetly  why  they  were 
sad  ? 
"Hast  thou  not  seen  our  Master  crucified  ?" 
They  answered.      "  How   can  we  again  be 
Had?" 


"  O  children,"  said  the  stranger,  "  do  you  read 
The  things  which  all  the  holy  prophets  said, 

How  He  would  suffer  and  would  die  indeed, 
But  yet  should  rise  in  glory  from  the  dead  ?  " 


330  HALLOWED   FOREVER. 

And,  when  the  little  village  came  in  view, 
Thev  said,  "  Abide  with  us  ;  for  it  is  late  :  " 

So  He  went  in,  and  sat  down  with  the  two, 
And  took  the  bread,  and  blessed  it  ere  they 
ate. 

Their  searching  eyes  were  fastened  on  His 
face  ; 
They  caught  the  look  which  chained  them 
as  of  old, 
Only  it  wore  diviner,  loftier  grace  : 

Their  glorious  risen  Master  they  behold  ! 

And   then  they  knew  how  strangely  all   the 
while 
Their  spirits    burned  within   them    as  He 
talked, 
Or  listened  to  them  with  that  very  smile, 
Explaining  oft   the  Scriptures   while  they 
walked. 

They  felt  reward  for  all  their  bitter  pain, 
When,  lo,   He  vanished   softly  from   their 
sight  ! 

But  they  could  never  be  so  sad  again 

Who  had  the  memory  of  that  blessed  night. 


HOW  SHALL    WE  KEEP  THIS  //<>/  )    DA        J31 


&ofo  shall  8He  krrp  this  ?i>olu  Day  of 

l'y 

from  a 
published  in   1878,  and  containing  client 

hymns  for  the  festivals  of  the  Church. 

[OW   shall    we    keep   this    holy   day  of 
gladness, 
This  queen  of  days,  that  bitter,  hope- 

5S    3 

Forever  drives  away  ? 
The  night  is  past,  its  sleep  and  its  forgetting  : 
Our  risen  sun,  no  more  forever  setting 

Pours  everlasting  day. 

Let  us  not  bring  upon  this  joyful  morning 
Dead  myrrh  and  spices  for  our  Lord's  adorn- 
ing, 
V  >r  any  lifeless  thing  : 
Our    gifts    shall    be    the    fragrance    and    the 

splendor 
Of  living  flowers,  in  breathing  beauty  tender, 
The  glory  of  our  spring. 

And,  with  the  myrrh,  oh  !  put  away  the  leaven 
Of  malice,  hatred,  injuries  unforgiven, 


332  CHRIST  HAS  ARISE  AT. 

And  cold  and  lifeless  form ; 
Still,  with  the  lilies,  deeds  of  mercy  bringing, 
And    fervent   prayers,   and    praises    upward 
springing, 

And  hopes  pure,  bright,  and  warm. 

So  shall  this  Easter  shed  a  fragrant  beauty 
O'er  many  a  day  of  dull  and  cheerless  duty, 

And  light  thy  wintry  way ; 
Till  rest  is  won,  and  Patience,  smiling  faintly, 
Upon  thy  breast  shall  lay  her  lilies  saintly, 

To  hail  heaven's  Easter-day. 


(Cfjrtst  fjas  arisen. 

By  E.  A.  Washburn,  D.D.  From  Miss  Chapman's  "  Easter 
Hymns." — See  the  biographical  note  prefixed  to  the  hymn,  "Still  thy 
sorrow,  Magdalena." 


HRIST  has  arisen  : 
Death  is  no  more  ! 
Lo  !  the  white-robed  ones 
Sit  by  the  door. 
Dawn,  golden  morning  ! 

Scatter  the  night ! 
Haste,  ye  disciples  glad, 
First  with  the  light ! 


CHRIST  HAS  ARISl 

Break  forth  in  singii 

( )  world  new-born  !      • 
Chant  the  great  Easter-tide, 

Christ's  holy  morn  ! 
Chant  Him,  young  sunbeams 

Dancing  in  mirth  ! 
Chant,  all  ye  winds  of  God 

Coursing  the  earth  ! 

Chant  Him,  ye  laughing  flowers 

Fresh  from  the  sod  ! 
Chant  Him,  wild,  leaping  streams, 

Praising  your  God  ! 

Break  from  thy  winter, 

Sad  heart,  and  sing  ! 
Bud  with  thy  blossoms  fair; 

Christ  is  thy  spring. 

Come  where  the  Lord  hath  lain  : 

Past  is  the  gloom  : 
See  the  full  eye  of  day 

Smile  through  the  tomb  ! 
Hark  !  angel-voices 

Fall  from  the  skies  : 
Christ  hath  arisen  ! 

Glad  heart,  arise ! 


334   O  MINE  EYES,  BE  NOT  SO    TEARFUL'. 


©  mine  Ems,  he  not  so  ©earful! 

By  Miss  Phcebe  Cary,  who  was  born  Sept.  4,  1824;  and  died  at  New- 
port, R.I.,  July  31,  1871.  Her  birthplace  was  in  Ohio,  in  a  farmhouse 
eight  miles  north  of  Cincinnati.  Left  motherless  at  an  early  age.  she 
and  her  sister  Alice  found  consolation  in  writing  verses,  which  gradually 
attracted  attention  by  their  grace,  compass,  and  sweetness.  In  1850, 
after  publishing  a  little  volume  of  poems  of  joint  authorship,  the  sisters 
went  to  New  York,  and  began  the  struggle  for  a  livelihood  by  literary 
labor.  Six  years  later  they  established  themselves  in  a  pleasant  home 
on  Twentieth  Street,  which  continued  the  centre  of  a  charming  literary 
and  social  circle  until  it  was  broken  by  the  death  of  Alice  in  1870,  and 
destroyed  by  the  death  of  Phcebe  in  1871.  In  the  annals  of  authorship 
there  are  few  things  more  touching  and  interesting  than  the  story  of  the 
common  life,  labors,  and  sorrows  of  these  sister  poets,  as  told  by  Mrs. 
Clemmer  in  her  volume  of  "Memorials."  Their  lives  were  as  full  of 
fragrance  and  beauty  as  their  poems,  and  the  latter  take  rank  among  the 
best  productions  of  American  female  poets.  The  following  poem  derives 
a  pathetic  interest  from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  last  that  Phcebe  Cary  wrote, 
and  gives  voice  to  her  own  serene  faith,  which  rose  triumphant  above 
pain  and  sickness  and  the  fear  of  death. 

MINE  eyes,  be  not  so  tearful ! 
Drooping  spirit,  rise,  be  cheerful ; 
a    Heavy  soul,  why  art  thou  fearful  ? 

"  Nature's  sepulchre  is  breaking, 
And  the  earth,  her  gloom  forsaking, 
Into  life  and  lisfht  is  waking. 


"  Oh  the  weakness  and  the  madness 
Of  a  heart  that  holdeth  sadness 
When  all  else  is  lisrht  and  gladness  ! 


//    WAS  DARKNESS 

"Though  thy  treasure  death  has  taken, 
They  that  sleep  are  not  forsake'n  : 

They  shall  hear  the  trump,  and  waken. 

"Shall  not  He,  who  lite  supplieth 

To  the  dead  seed  where  it  lieth, 
Quicken  also  man,  who  dieth  ? 

"  Yea,  the  power  oi  death  was  ended 
When  lie,  who  to  hell  descended, 
Rose,  and  up  to  heaven  ascended. 

14  Rise,  my  soul,  then,  from  dejection: 
See  in  nature  the  reflection 

Of  the  dear  Lord's  resurrection. 

"Let  this  promise  leave  thee  never:  — 
If  the  miglit  of  death  I  seeer, 
Ye  shall  also  live  forever !  " 


©n  3£artlj  foas  Darkness  spread 

anonymous  authorship;  from  *'  A  .  (ins  for  Public  and 

Private  Devotion,"  edited  by  S.  Longfellow  and  S.  Johnson. 


N  earth  was  darkness  spread 
O'er  boundless  night  : 
'i   M  Let  there  be  light !  "  God  said  ; 
And  there  was  light  ! 


336   THOU  THAT  OX  THE  FIRST  OF  EASTERS. 

There  hung  a  deeper  gloom 

O'er  quick  and  dead  ; 
But  Jesus  burst  the  tomb, 

And  darkness  fled. 

God  by  His  word  arrayed 

Darkness  with  light ; 
God  by  His  Son  displayed 

Day  without  night. 

For  thee,  O  man  I  arose 

Creation's  ray  ; 
For  thee,  too,  brighter  glows 

Salvation's  day. 

The  beams  first  poured  en  earth 

For  mortals  shone ; 
The  light  of  later  birth 

Immortals  own. 


Cfjou  tljat  on  ttjr  jftrst  of  IZastrrs. 

By  W.  B.,  from  "  Elim.  or  Hymns  of  Holy  Refreshment,"  edited  by 
Rev.  F.  D.  Huntington,  D.D. 

HOU  that  on  the  first  of  Easters 
Cam'st  resplendent  from  the  tomb, 
Leaving  all  Tin*  linen  cerements 
Folded  in  the  cavern's  gloom, 


THOU  THAT  ON  THE  TIRS'T  of E asters,  y^j 

Come  with  thine  "All  hail!"  to  greet  us; 

( !ome,  our  Paschal  joy  to  be  : 
Let  our  altar,  clad  in  brightn< 

Vielcl  a  throne  of  white  lor  Thee. 

This  shall  crown  the  Queen  of  Sundays; 

Grant  but  this,  —  our  cup  runs  o'er  : 
Hymns  that  welcomed  in  Thine  Easter 

Made  us  long  for  this  the  more. 
All  the  Paschal  Alleluias 

Craved  to  see  the  Lamb  appear  : 
Come  the  hour  when  faith  shall  tell  us, 

He  is  risen  !  He  is  here  ! 

Agnus  Dei,  we  are  guilty ; 

Panis  Vitae,  we  are  faint ; 
But  Thou  didst  not  rise  at  Easter 

To  be  deaf  to  our  complaint : 
Come,  oh,  come  !  to  cleanse  and  feed  us, 

Breathing  peace,  and  kindling  love, 
Till  Thy  Paschal  blessings  bear  us 

To  the  Feast  of  feasts  above. 


338  FOR  EASTER  DAY,    O  LILIES    WHITE! 


tfor  Hastrr  Bag,  ©  Lilies  BHfjtte! 

By  Harriet  McEwen  Kimball.  Miss  Kimball  was  born  at  Ports- 
mouth, N.H.,  and  has  always  lived  there.  She  has  published  a  volume 
of  "  Hymns,"  and  a  volume  entitled  "  Swallow  Flights  of  Song,"  from 
the  latter  of  which  the  following  is  taken.  Mr.  Whittier  has  said  of  her 
poems,  that,  "  in  the  range  of  modern  religious  poetry,  I  know  of  but  few 
pieces  more  true  and  tender,  more  sweetly  touched  with  the  '  beauty  of 
holiness,'  than  hers." 


OR  Easter  Day,  O  Lilies  white, 
Your  shrined  splendors  keep  ! 
But  while  the  sweet,  sad,  waning  light 
Of  Easter  Even  fades, 
Amid  the  sacred  shades 
Where  Sorrow  comes  to  weep,  — 
Nor  weeps  in  vain, 
Since  Hope  is  born  of  very  Pain, 
(And  Pain  its  pangs  in  joy  forgets,)  — 
There  breathe  your  balm,  sweet  Violets  ! 
Dear  twilight-flowers  whose  lovely  hue, 
More  tender  than  the  tenderest  blue, 
Yet  not  as  purple  sad,  appears 
Most  like  transformed  tears. 

"  A  little  while  !  "  ye  seem  to  sigh, 
"And  yet  a  little  while  !  "  ye  say, 
"  The  stone  shall  noiseless  roll  away  : 

Unseen  across  the  midnight  sky 


DAWN  OF  DAWNS,   THE   FASTER  PAY. 

Twilight  and  Daybreak  run  to  m 
Already  angels  throng  the  air, 
And  twain,  descending,  kneel, 

Wiled  in  awe,  at  head  and  feet 
Of  that  new  tomb  whose  broken  seal 
The  wondering  Morning  shall  reveal, 

And  '  lie  is  risen  !  '  declare. 

Sweet  odors  —  sweeter  than  the  sweet 
Of  violets  and  lilies  blent, 
The  sweet  of  holy  slumber  spent  — 

Stealing  from  vesture  folded  fair, 

And  fragrant  with  the  Lord's  own  care, 
Wherein  His  Blessed  Body  lay 
Till  break  of  day, 

Shall  make  most  sweet  the  graves  of  those, 
Who,  entering  into  Paradise, 

Do  sleep  in  Him  Who  died  and  rose  ; 
In  Whom  they,  too,  shall  rise." 


Daton  of  Datons,  tfjr  IZastrr  Bag* 

By  Harriet  IfcEwEN  Kimball.  —  See  note  to  preceding  hymn. 


S^AWX  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day 

Far  and  wide  in  splendor  breaks 
Darkest  shadows  flee  away 
Where  it  breaks. 


340  DAWN  OF  DAUWS,   THE  EASTER  DAY. 

Veiled  in  its  vernal  light, 

Christ,  the  Light  of  Light,  arose  ; 
From  the  grave's  unbroken  night 
He  arose. 

Though  beneath  the  Cross  He  fell, 
Though  upon  the  Cross  He  died, 
Led  He  captive  Death  and  Hell 
When  He  died. 

Overcome,  He  overcame ; 

Conquered,  more  than  Conqueror  lives  ; 
Crowned  King  with  Heaven's  acclaim, 
Jesus  lives ! 

Through  the  gates  of  sacrifice 

He,  the  Victim,  Victor  went : 
Lo,  His  triumph  lights  the  skies 
Since  He  went ! 

Darker  than  the  night  our  sin, 
Silent  as  the  tomb  our  life : 
Still  His  glory  enters  in,  — 
Light  and  life. 

"  Rise  and  follow  Me,"  He  saith  ; 

"  Love  as  I  have  loved  you  ; 

Rise  to  life  that  I  through  death 

Won  for  you." 


DAWN  OF  DAWNS,   THE  FASTER  PAY.    341 

Love  that  counts  not  sacrifice, 

Keeping  nothing  back  from  Him, — 
To  such  love  must  we  ari.se, 
Following  Him. 

As  He  laid  I  lis  garments  by, 

With  the  bondage  of  the  grave 
Clothed  in  Love's  own  majesty 
Left  the  grave,  — 

Self,  the  earth's  most  earthy  dress, 

Must  we  cast  aside  like  Him, 
And,  putting  on  His  righteousness, 
Rise  with  Him. 

He  hath  rolled  the  stone  away, 

Through  Redemption's  might,  for  us  : 
Dawn  of  dawns,  the  Easter  Day 
Breaks  for  us. 


34^     WHO   DEEMS   THE  SAVIOUR  DEAD? 


ggtyo  items  tijc  Sabiour  Beat? 


By  Francis  De  Haes  Janvier,  who  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in 
1817,  and  is  now  residing  there.  His  first  volume,  "  The  Skeleton  Monk 
and  Other  Poems,"  was  published  in  1861.  In  1S63  he  published  a  poem 
entitled  ''The  Sleeping  Sentinel;"  and  in  1866  a  volume  of  "Patriotic 
Poems,"  containing  verses  written  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion. 


1HO  deems  the  Saviour  dead  ? 
And  yet  he  bowed  His  head, 
And  while  in  sudden  night  the  sun 
retired, 
And,  through  thick  darkness  hurled, 
Reeled  on  the  shuddering  world, 
The  mighty  Son  of  God  in  blood  expired. 

Expired  ;  but,  in  the  gloom 

And  silence  of  the  tomb, 
Death's  mystery  unveiled  to  mortal  sight  : 

Triumphant  o'er  His  foes, 

A  conqueror  He  rose, 
And  from  the  grave  commanded  life  and  light ! 

And  shall  we  count  those  dead 
For  whom  the  Saviour  bled, 
And  died  and  rose,  and  lives  forevermore  ? 


WHO  DEEMS   THE  SAVIOUR  DEAD 

And  were  the  grief  and  loss, 
The  shame  and  scourge  and  cros 
Endured  in  vain  by  Him  whom  we  adore  ? 

And  shall  His  children  fear 

When  that  dread  hour  draws  near 
Which  gives  them  immortality  with  God  ? 

Should  not  our  souls  rejoice 

To  hear  our  Father's  voice, 
And  gladly  take  the  path  the  Saviour  trod  ? 

Through  death's  deep  shadow  lies 

Our  journey  to  the  skies, 
And  all  beyond  is  light  and  life  and  love  : 

The  dead  whom  we  deplore 

Have  only  passed  before, 
And  wait  to  greet  us  in  the  world  above. 

Then  let  the  summons  come 

Which  calls  our  spirits  home 
From  sin  and  pain  and  sorrow  ever  free, 

Where  weary  ones  may  rest 

Upon  that  Saviour's  breast 
Whose  death  revealed  our  immortality. 


344    THE    WORLD  KEEPS  EASTER  DAY. 


Cfje  CKorto  itself  keeps  Easter  Bag. 

The  following  appears  in  Miss  Chapman's  volume  of  Easter  Hymns. 
The  name  of  the  author  is  not  given. 

[HE  world  itself  keeps  Easter  Day, 
And  Easter  larks  are  singing, 
And  Easter  flowers  are  blooming  gay, 
And  Easter  buds  are  springing. 
The  Lord  of  all  things  lives  anew, 
And  all  His  works  are  rising  too. 
Alleluia  !     Alleluia  !     Alleluia  ! 
Praise  the  Lord  ! 

There  stood  three  Marys  by  the  tomb 

On  Easter  morning  early, 
When  day  had  scarcely  chased  the  gloom, 

And  dew  was  white  and  pearly  : 
With  loving  but  with  erring  mind 
They  came  the  Prince  of  Life  to  find. 
Alleluia  !     Alleluia  !     Alleluia  ! 
Praise  the  Lord ! 

But  earlier  still  the  angel  sped, 
His  words  of  comfort  giving ; 


BS  or  SPRING.  345 

"And  why,"  he  said,  " among  the  dead 

Thus  seek  ye  for  the  living?" 
The  risen  Jesus  lives  again, 
To  save  the  souls  of  sinful  men. 

Alleluia!     Alleluia!     Alleluia! 
Praise  the  Lord  ! 

The  world  itself  keeps  Easter  Day, 

And  Easter  larks  are  singing, 
And  Easter  Sowers  are  blooming  gay, 

And  Easter  buds  are  springing. 
The  Lord  is  risen,  as  all  things  tell  : 
Good  Christians,  see  ye  rise  as  well. 
Alleluia  !     Alleluia  !     Alleluia  ! 
Praise  the  Lord  ! 


ISrrncs  of  Spring,  all  Eartt)  to  Life 

afoaking. 

Anonymous;  from  "  The  Changed  Cross  "  collection. 


|REEZES  of  spring,  all  earth  to  life 
awaking, 
Birds    swiftly    soaring    through    the 
sunny  sky, 
The  butterfly  its  lonely  prison  breaking, 
The  seed  up-springing  which  had  seemed 
to  die,  — 


346  BREEZES   OF  SPRING. 

Types  such  as  these  a  word    of   hope   have 
spoken, 
Have    shed   a   gleam  of   light  around  the 
tomb  ; 
But  weary  hearts  longed  for  a  surer  token, 
A  clearer  way  to  dissipate  its  gloom. 

And    this  was    granted !     See    the   Lord  as- 
cending, 
On    crimson    clouds    of    evening    calmly 
borne, 
With  hands  outstretched,  and  looks  of  love 
still  bending 
On    His    bereaved   ones,    who    no    longer 
mourn  ! 

"  I  am  the  resurrection,"  hear  Him  saying ! 

"  I  am  the  life  :  he  who  believes  in  me 
Shall  never  die  :  the  souls  my  call  obeying, 

Soon  where  I  am  forevermore  shall  be." 

Sing  hallelujah!   light  from  heaven  appear- 
ing, 

The  mystery  of  life  and  death  is  plain  : 
Now  to  the  grave  we  can  descend  unf earing, 

In  sure  and  certain  hope  to  rise  again  ! 


J3ibliograp!)ij. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


731*  \rtial  list  i 

the  preparation  of  this  collection  :  — 

Lyra  Consolation  is  j  or,  Hymns  for  the  Day  of  Sorrow 

and  Weariness.  Edited  by  Horatius  Bonar,  D.D.  New 
York:  1S66. 

Elim;  or,  Hymns  of  Holy  Refreshment.  Edited  by 
Rev.  F.  D.  Huntington,  D.D.     Boston:   1S65. 

Christian  SINGERS  OF  GERMANY.  By  Catherine  Wink- 
worth.     London  :   1S69. 

The  Voice  oe  Christian  Life  in  Song  ;  or,  Hymns  and 
Hymn- Writers  of  Many  Lands  and  Ages.  By  Mrs.  Eliza- 
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England's  Antiphon.  By  George  MacDonald,  LL.D. 
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LAUDA  SYON.  Ancient  Latin  Hymns  of  the  English  and 
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3  SO  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

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IIvmxologia  Christiana;  or,  Psalms  and  Hymns 
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Lyra  GERMANIC  A.  Hymns  for  the  Sundays  and  Chief 
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Lyra  Messianica.  Hymns  and  Verses  on  the  Life  of 
Christ,  Ancient  and  Modern,  with  other  poems.  Edited  by 
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Carmina  Crucis.     By  Dora  Greenwell.     Boston:  1869. 

Sursum  Corda:  Hymns  for  the  Sick  and  Suffer- 
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Singers  and  Songs  of  the  Liberal  Faith.  Edited, 
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Hymns  from  the  Land  of  Luther.     Edinburgh  :  1863. 

The  Hymns  of  Denmark.  Translated  by  Gilbert  Tait. 
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Singers  and  Songs  of  the  Church  ;  being  Biographi- 
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Lyra  Sacra  Americana  ;  or,  Gems  from  American 
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biographical  sketches,  by  Charles  Dexter  Cleveland.  Lon- 
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Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern.  With  annotations, 
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Re-edited  by  Rev.  Louis  Coutier  Biggs,  M.A.  London: 
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Annotations  of  the  Hymnal.  Consisting  of  notes, 
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The  Book  of  Praise.  From  the  best  English  Hymn- 
Writers.     Selected    and    arranged    by   Roundell    Palmer. 

Cambridge  :  1S70. 

The  Sunday  Book  of  Poetry.  Selected  and  arranged 
by  C.  1  .  Alexander.     Cambridge  :  1 S65. 

Lyra  Mystica:  Hymns  and  Verses  on  Sacred  Sul 
Ancient  and  Modern.     Edited  by  Rev.  Orby  Shipley.     Lon- 
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Hymns  of  the  Eastern  Church.  Translated  by  Rev. 
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Hymns  and  Poems  for  the  Sick  and  Suffering. 
Edited  by  V.  Fosbery.     London:  1861. 

The  Harp  and  1111:  Cross.  Compiled  by  Stephen  G. 
Bulfinch.     Boston :  ds;~. 

The  Vear  of  Praise.  Edited  by  Henry  Alford,  D.D., 
Dean  of  Canterbury.     London:  1S67. 

Mediaeval  Hymns  and  Sequences.  Translated  by 
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Latin  Hymns,  with  English  Notes.  By  F.  A.  March, 
LL.D.      New  York:    1874. 

Sacred  Latin  Poetry.  Edited,  with  notes,  by  Richard 
ChenevLx  Trench,  D.D.     London  :   1S64. 

Lyra  BRITANNICA:  A  collection  of  British  Hymns. 
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Lyra  CATHOLICA.     New  York:   1851. 

Lyra  DOMESTICA.  Translated  from  the  Psaltery  and 
Harp  of  C.  J.  P.  Spitta,  by  Richard  Massie.     B  ston  :   1861. 

Lyra  ANGLICANA.  Collected  and  arranged  by  Rev. 
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Hymns  and  Meditations.  By  A.  L.  \Y.  London: 
1S70. 


35 2  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Christ  in  Song:  Hymns  of  Immanuel.  Selected  from 
all  ages,  with  notes.  By  Philip  Schaff,  D.D.  New  York  : 
1870. 

The  Hymnal  Noted.     London. 

The  People's  Hymnal.     London:  1877. 

Hymns  from  the  German.  Translated  by  Frances 
Elizabeth  Cox.     London  :  1864. 

Songs  of  the  Soul  :  Gathered  out  of  Many  Lands  and 
Ages.     By  Samuel  Irenasus  Prime.     New  York:  1874. 

Easter  Hymns.  Compiled  by  J.  E.  C.  Chapman.  Bos- 
ton :  1876. 

Now  is  Christ  Risen  :  Poems  for  Easter-Tide.  Com- 
piled by  S.  L.  N.     Boston:   1876. 

The  Spirit  of  Praise.  A  Collection  of  Hymns  Old 
and  New.     London. 

Lyra  Anglicana.  Edited  by  Rev.  George  T.  Rider. 
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Lyra  Americana.  Edited  by  Rev.  George  T.  Rider. 
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Poetical  Works  of  Giles  Fletcher,  Edmund  Spenser, 
Richard  Crashaw,  George  Sandys,  George  Wither,  John 
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various  hymn-books,  &c. 


